


Owner And Owned

by Steila



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flawed characters, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Political Alliances, Romance, Smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steila/pseuds/Steila
Summary: The day of the battle, there were no weapons nor blood when a Targaryen conquered Winterfell. How could it be when said Targaryen looked so much like her father?Sansa felt her knees weaken and her body shake under his stare.He looked up at her in the throne room and bended the knee, to her, Sansa Stark.Sansa finally understood Petyr's dark words then;"I will come to you soon enough to protect your best interests. Until then, let those beautiful Tully eyes speak of duty, family and honour". Petyr had written to her. She understood it all now.Sansa wanted Jon to stay by her side.Her brain registered him as “mine” as soon he dismounted his dragon.She could not let him go back to Daenerys Targaryen. He was her father's walking reminder. He was a Stark of the North and she had to have him. Keep him.





	1. Family, Duty, Honor

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by my love for 'Phaedra' by Racine. 
> 
> I was reading Phaedra's confession of her devastating passion for her step-son, Hippolytus; when my thoughts went back to the reunion scene between Sansa and Jon. 
> 
> Here is the most important part of Phaedra's confession, for those who are not familiar with that Greek Tragedy: 
> 
> Phaedra; My pain goes further back. I was scarcely tied
> 
> To Aegeus’ son, by those laws that make a bride.
> 
> My false peace and happiness secured to me,
> 
> When Athens showed me my glorious enemy.
> 
> I saw him, I blushed: I paled at the sight:
> 
> Pain swelled in my troubled heart outright:
> 
> My eyes saw nothing: I couldn’t speak for pain:
> 
> I felt my whole body frozen, and in flame.
> 
> I recognised Venus and her fearsome fires.
> 
> ************************************************************************************************************************  
> Since my work has no beta, I'd like to apologise in advance for grammar errors or awkward wording. English is not my first language.

**SANSA**

 

 

It all started like a jest. A white raven came to Winterfell one morning announcing the arrival of a Targaryen prince on his green dragon.

Frightened, she sent another raven to the Eyrie begging Petyr Baelish to send more men to ensure her protection.

It took few days for her betrothed to dare to reply.

His response set Sansa's spirit aflame.

Furious, she threw the letter in her solar fireplace and cursed the Gods and the unholy day they placed this man in her path.

She had agreed to marry him in exchange for her freedom and the safety of her home. To get rid of Ramsay Bolton and his claim on her she allowed Petyr Baelish to leave his prints on her.

It happened three years ago. She and Theon escaped Winterfell and drove their broken bodies to Castle Black. She went in hanging on the last string of hope she knew was still possible. But that same hope threw a knife in her already bleeding heart.

She never found her half brother. He left for The South three days before her arrival.

 _He left for somewhere warmer_ , his brothers of the Night Watch had said to her. He left while she was fighting for her life and their home. He left and never came back to claim their home, to free her.

Sansa had no delusion, she knew they were not close when they were younger, but she wished deep down someone who carried her blood could save her.

She turned to Petyr Baelish in a time of desperation, after Ramsay Bolton had sent his men to Castle Black to fetch her.

Not only had Baelish agreed to rally the Knights of the Vale to her cause, he helped her take down her abuser and retake her throne.

Now they called her Queen In The North.

It took time for her father's bannermen to rally behind her. It took persuasion and countless hours and calculated use of power for the northern men and their ideas of loyalty to be molded and shaped into something new.

Whether Sansa had a cock or not, she was still a Stark. Born from a dynastic marriage between two powerful Houses and the only breathing sire of Eddard Stark. The North remembers and she made sure they remembered which houses weakened their lands.

Sansa did not hesitate to send her army south to reclaim Riverrun from the Lannisters and the Freys, in the name of her deceased mother, after  Queen Cersei's desistance of the Iron Throne.  
A political alliance was then established between her and her uncles Edmure and Brynden Tully.

She restored Winterfell and strengthened the minor houses. They were her best allies now.

They were the ones who responded when she needed them. First came House Mormont, then House Ryswell, House Tallhart and House Locke followed. They were the ones she trusted the much. It took months for the other northern houses to come along but they did.

She promised to herself to not repeat anyone's mistakes, not her father's, and definitely not her brother’s. The north would remain her priority no matter what. She promised the Night Watch she would prepare the North for the threat looming beyond the wall and immediately lent her support to Castle Black with more men in recognition of he time they protected her and did not give her away to Ramsay's men. In exchange Castle Black vowed to fight until they drew their last breath to keep the monsters at bay. Sansa had no fire in her but Petyr guaranteed to find a way to help her in that battle too.

 Her betrothal to Petyr Baelish was the bane of her existence. She despised the mockingbird for selling her off to Ramsay. Sansa hated him even more for pretending to be her ally only when it benefited him. Nonetheless, Sansa knew that she needed him. He was the only one who came for her when she called.  
The only one who stayed behind and gave her Winterfell. Deep down there were an unspoken understanding between them. They were both playing this game of power and they needed each other in order to be more than pawns.

But trusting Petyr Baelish was the only luxury she could not afford, even as a queen.

And he proved it once again. His response to the upcoming threat from the Dragon Queen was a mocking rebuttal.

 

 

 

> _Do not worry my little bird. Jon, despite his new titles and reputation, is still a Stark, but above all he is still a man. Therefore, he is vulnerable to you more than you think._
> 
> _The northern sense of honour tainting is blood will prevent him from ruining your reign. I need you, my little bird, to convince, to persuade him to serve you instead of the Dragon Queen_  
>  _You will know what to do. I gave you all the weapons needed._ _I will come to you soon enough to protect your best interests. Until then, let those beautiful Tully eyes speak of family, duty and honour._

 

Discouraged, Sansa sent another raven to the Eyrie, pressing him to come back to her with the knights of the Vale and help her protect herself from Jon. She threatened to annul their betrothal and marry one of Lord Manderly’s sons instead. She watched the raven soar, assured that her threats would make him grow wings and fly to her in no time.

So great was her surprise when another week passed and Petyr Baelish did not respond to her fiery defiance.

Puzzled and resigned, she prepared her bannermen for the upcoming battle against the Targaryen queen’s army.

 

The day of the battle, there were no weapons nor blood when a Targaryen conquered Winterfell. How could it be when said Targaryen looked so much like her father?

Sansa felt her knees weaken and her body shake under his stare.

He looked up at her in the throne room and bended the knee, to her, Sansa Stark.

Sansa finally understood Petyr's dark words then;

 

 _I will come to you soon enough to protect your best interests. Until then, let those beautiful Tully eyes speak of duty, family and honour._ Petyr had written to her. She understood it all now.

Sansa wanted Jon to stay by her side.

Her brain registered him as “mine” as soon he dismounted his dragon.

She could not let him go back to Daenerys Targaryen. He was her father's walking reminder. He was a Stark of the North and she had to have him. Keep him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JON**

 

 

Jon had convinced Daenerys to send him North after weeks of pleading and negotiating.

Although the pleading part mostly happened in their bed in King’s Landing. He did the best he could to refrain and assuage Daenerys hunger for power.

She was adamant, she wanted the seven Kingdoms and would not have it any other way.

Jon alternatively did not think it was necessary for her put her claims on lands she knew nothing about.

She gained so much already from her time in Essos. Daenerys was magnificent and the commander of the world’s biggest army. She was unstoppable and her children, a weapon never seen before, instilled fear and admiration. She had everything she needed. She had him.

But it was not enough.

After sending her men to claim the Reach and the Stormlands, she needed the Riverlands but she encountered a few complications since Riverrun aligned itself with the North.

Naturally the North was next. Despite his only wish being to support his aunt’s best interest, he could not stop her from prying on the north.

She became everything she wished to not be.

Instead of focusing on rebuilding Kingslanding, she wanted what was out of reach.

The woman he had fallen for proved herself to be vengeful where he wanted to show mercy.

With the support of House Martell, she proceeded to burn down the entirety of House Clegane. Even the new born babes did not escape her rage. Every house that assisted in the sack of King's Landing was destroyed until the last drop of blood.

When Tyrion questioned her actions she told him it was in the name of her nephew Aegon and her niece Rhaenys. Jon could understand that. He so desperately wished he could avenge Robb and family’s death. But he could not.

The Stark’s name was scattered and shattered in the world. It was too late to right that wrong.

Still, Jon watched her lose her way into her thirst for revenge. He persevered hoping it would be the last but there were no such thing.

 

Their arguments got so heated and repetitive that he no longer shared her bed and so it went for a year. Until the day he discovered her new deception. She wanted to send her army north behind his back. Jon came back to her then.

She was abed and complaining of severe headache which she feared to be the premonitory symptom of her father's madness.

She cried in his embrace and begged him to help her. Stripped off of his rage at her betrayal, Jon promised her that he will.

After all, the North was controlled by a Bolton bastard who had no claims to his uncle's home.

He would fight him and take it back for Daenerys. He owed her that.

 

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

He was in the great balcony of his quarter of the castle, packing his maps for the travel when Tyrion Lannister approached him.

Jon has not seen much of him since he left the castle last year. He looked somber with dark circles under his eyes.

 

Jon stiffened, feeling a growing discomfort twisting his belly. He knew the reason the imp looked so broken these days. He’d heard the screams too, that night Tyrion implored Dany to not fly to Casterly Rock where Cersei had retreated to. She did not listen and they all know how that night ended. With blood and fire.

 

“ She convinced you.” He said matter-factly.

 

Jon found he could not hold his gaze. He looked around then down at his men and buried himself into his task again.

 

“ She did not have to. I wanted to go North anyway.”

 

He chuckled darting forward. Jon stiffened.

 

“ Do you even know what await you in those lands?” he asked with a hint of humour in his voice.

Jon sighed he turned his back to Tyrion, feeling feeling a frantic need to silence him.

“ I know what you think of my decision to help Dany conquer the North. I also know why you think that way. But you cannot fault me for giving her what she wants when you did the same.”

 

“ That I did. I followed her blindly and pledged allegiance to her until my last breath. She makes it so easy to believe in her. She gives you a purpose, until she yanks it away from you.” Tyrion’s words hang in the air between them for awhile moment.

 

“ I will not come back.” He breathed with closed eyes.

He had a burning need to escape from everything since he left Castle Black years ago. He was so tired of blood and death. But he’d long realised that he could not escape something that was intrinsically a part of him now. Death was in his blood and in the air he breathes.  
He should have died that day and never come back. He was an anomaly.

 

“ And where will you go? Is there a place where she cannot find you? She own the world.” Tyrion bespoke. Feigning disinterest but Jon could clearly hear something else in his wavering voice.

 

_He wanted to leave too._

 

“ I do not know yet. All I know is this will be my parting gift to her. I cannot stay here and watch her lose her mind.”

 

“ What are you talking about?”

 

He looked up at the Lannister then, did he not know what was happening with Daenerys? Her illness and restless nights?

 

“ She...she is abed, she is not feeling well. Something is destroying her from within. This fire in our blood is a curse.”

 

Tyrion laughed which caught Jon off guards.

He felt insulted then. He opened up to him about their queen’s health and he laughed?

He could not believe it.

 

“ She seemed just fine when we tended to her people this morning and at noon. What exactly did she say to you?” Tyrion said incredulously in between uncontrollable fits of laughters.

 

Jon shook his head and was about to reply when his men walked to him.

 

“ Your grace, we are ready to take our leave.”

 

With a last glance at the Lannister he hurried out to his men.

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Everything changed on his way North.

Upon reaching the Riverlands, words from the North came to him. They spoke of a queen instead of Ramsay Bolton.

More letters came in later with tales of a battle of blood and ice in the north. People spoke of a Queen that united the north and is preparing it to the battle against a great threat from beyond the wall.

Perplexed, Jon could not rest that night.

He was reminded of his brothers from the Night watch. He remembered their shared goal and their betrayal. He remembered his death. Jon knew about the Night King and his army of dread.

He knew it all but he forgot. He went south, met Daenerys and got soaked in her words and achievements. She gave him a throne and a name when he was nothing. By taking her hand he threw away the only thing that kept him alive all those years. Snow.

He sent a raven to the capital then. Asking for his direwolf to be sent to him.

He’d left Ghost in King's Landing preferring to ride his Targaryen dragon instead. And that was another thing he forgot.  
The stronger his bond to the dragon grew, the lesser his bond to the direwolf got. He no longer dreamed of hunts along Nymeria and Summer. There were no unspoken communication between him and the beast. He lost his wolf.

It had happened one evening, Ghost attacked Missandei and he could not order him to stop. Angry and shocked he allowed Daenerys’s guards to chain the wolf away.

He had not seen much of the direwolf for half of a year now. Jon only knew that he was well fed and cared of.

 

The following days on the road were spent in a dreadful sense of doom.

He could feel that something was spawing inside of him. Such thing could change him indefinitely.

He had partaken in many battles in the past, he knew this familiar and inexorable fear of death. But that was folly knowing how big Daenerys’s army was. From what he knew, the Northern army was huge but still nothing compared to ten thousand unsullied men, nine hundred Dothraki men and a Dragon’s wrath.

He will win this war, he had all the weapons necessary. But he was still afraid.

 

Upon reaching the North he found a desolated landscape covered in snow. Everything there was empty and cold.

It surrounded and trapped them in a song of icy whistles. The winds kept pushing his army back, mercilessly, gripping their skin and bones, freezing their blood.

His army, made of men from Essos complained about the blustery weather as more of their companions fell on the road. Jon had known this before, he experienced It beyond the wall but never like this. Winter was here, sooner than he expected.

He lost fifty men after a devastating snowstorm.

It lasted a week and took away tents, horses and men on its way. They barely survived by hiding in a cave.

Jon feared that he would lose the battle before it actually got to happen. He felt like a stranger in the land where he grew up. He could not distinguish nights from days with the sky constantly washed with dark grey.

 

He reached Kingsroad behind Winterfell after three months of great efforts. More than hundreds men perished on the road from the cold, or worse.

 

Upon reaching Winterfell they waited for the northern queen to come to them.

Jon refused to fight the northern army right away. If there were a way to avoid this unnecessary bloodshed, he would take it.

His army was bigger than them, and he could show mercy. All he wanted from them was to bend the knee and give the North to Daenerys.

Jon wanted to talk to their queen and summoned her.

She did not come to him. Instead, she sent foods and warmer clothes to his men. She wanted them to be strong and well fed for the battle. She said.

 

Dumbfounded Jon almost walked to the gates to snatch her out of the castle. She probably heard about their nefarious journey and was mocking them. Mocking his dead men while he circled and besieged her home.

This was madness. He could crush her under his feet if he so wished.

Couldn't she tell she was at a disadvantage?

 

 

Another day had passed without anything particular beside preparations for the battle and his growing frustration.

Ghost had arrived after the second night of siege.

Daenerys had sent a convoy with food, more men and weapons to strengthen Jon’s army.

Jon watched anxiously as the wolf trotted to him but did not stop. Ghost ran faster away from him, beyond his camp, straight to Winterfell.

He could not believe his eyes when the gates opened to let the direwolf in.

He was left in the middle of an army made of foreigners, feeling like a strange entity in his own homeland, under a rain of snow.

He stood there for hours peering at the closed gates of Winterfell. All his senses annihilated, body frozen, soaked by the icy rain.

 

 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

 

He met her on the fourth night of siege. She rode down the hill beyond the wolfwood and came down to the camp followed closely by her legion of men.

 

Strengthening his hold on Rhaegal’s neck, Jon ordered the dragon to fly to her.

His dragon showed its enthusiasm by breathing flames out of its nostrils and took off. He flew over the northern army and watched with contentment as her men raced to her in fear for her life.

But she did not budge. She stood, untethered by the threatening beast above her head, struggling to retain her alarmed horse.

Jon’s eyes narrowed to crinkled slit, scanning her frame on her white horse. She was covered in white fur, riding a white horse. Making herself the perfect target in the battle field.

Then he looked around him, the scenery was made of snow as white as her dress and fur. That was when the realisation dawned on him. She was not making herself visible, she blended in. She belonged to this frozen land.

Jon pushed against his heated companion, ordering it to fly lower. The beating wings brought a rush of hot winds, blowing the northern army into panic. Men and horses darted in different directions with fright.

Jon laughed.

Looking down upon them from where he stood, they moved like insects under his feet. He could spray his Targaryen’s fire all over them and be done with it, with one single move.

He felt his dragon’s warmth fill his bloodstream. Rhaegal wanted this as much as him.

 

The queen’s headscarf fell down, knocked by the winds. A mass of red strands escaped it like winter waves on shallow sand.

Unconsciously he summoned Rhaegal to fly down without taking his gaze away from her.

 

Look at me! Look at me! He kept whispering like a prayer.

 

As if she’d heard him, she turned her face up to him.

Her mouth set in a tight line, she raked him with freezing contempt with her piercing methylene orbs.

Jon knew these blue eyes. He knew this face.

He remembered how they made him feel like he did not belong. He could feel it even now. He did not belong on that dragon. He was not a prince but the bastard of Winterfell. They whispered to him.

 

_Catelyn Stark?_

_It could not be._

 

Landing down on the ground, he could feel his heart racing as her horse trotted closer. His gaze drank her in. She carried herself nothing like his father's wife. No. It was not her.

The last time he’d seen this girl, she’d been on her way to the south to marry and make her dreams come true. She was happy and ready to be a princess. Her dream did come true. She was a queen now.

Now her hair wore a darker shade of red, they were longer and messy as if she’d forgotten to dress it with braids like she used to.

Her face hardened with time. Her eyes...those eyes voided of sparks and hopes. They were angry sending invisible daggers into him.

He almost buckled down in fear. It did not make sense to fear her of all people. But he could not stop his mind from reacting so strongly to her.

 

His chest swelled with everything he felt at her sight until it was harder to breathe.

Jon shoved down off of his dragon, her name hanging on the edge of his tongue, but his throat was too dry to speak.

 

“ Jon Targaryen…” she trailed off and her brows furrowed. She studied him then her eyes went wide. Something gleamed in her eyes so fast but he caught it and could decrypt it, the same way she could read into him now.

 

He was home. There will be no battle today.

 

He will take Winterfell and stay here with her.

 

Jon looked back at his own army waiting for a sign from him, waiting to strike against this woman. His sister. His cousin.

 

Jon understood Daenerys’s hunger of power then.

_You always want what you cannot have…_


	2. Growing Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work has no beta and I'm not a native english speaker. Therefore I would like to apologise in advance for grammar errors or awkward wording, I made sure to avoid those mistakes but there might be some that got lost in my radar.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**SANSA**

 

To be the Lady of Winterfell, Sansa quickly learned, was to become the forewoman of menial labour. Each day was an endless round of Council meetings: making countless decisions on the proper administration of her land, the well-being of the lesser, the appointments of minor officials.  
With her council members each morning, she interviewed or sent directives to the functionaries responsible for the restoration of the castle. They needed more space and rooms;. Thicker walls but above all, they needed fire and warmth.

But as The Queen In The North, she also had to be accessible to the common people beyond the walls of her castle, so afterwards she held courts in the great audience hall, receiving petitions and request in her own hands, dispensing justice in person.  
She had inherited far more problems than she had realized. Her reign was under the Great Night.  
The North was paralysed by winter and the remains of the latest wars. Isolationism ambitions were rampant. Many had fled south, unwilling or unable to resist against winter in the north. And the onset of famine was burgeoning. They needed resources, commodity and foods. Hence, the reason she so desperately needed to keep her hold on Riverrun and The Eyrie. These lands were still unaffected by Winter, therefore could provide to the entirety of the North, foods supplies. For the time being the prospect of mass starvation was allayed. But Sansa and her uncle Brynden still worried about the darker time to come.

Meanwhile, they all needed to think about the threat from south. Now that Jon Targaryen had guided an army in their lands to take it from her, they had to consider Daenerys Targaryen for what she was, the enemy.

A deadly hush had fallen over the council room as she entered. Sansa took her seat next to Uncle Brynden. The ‘Blackfish’ had followed her North after the reclaiming of Riverrun, under the guise of his promise to her mother. He left Edmure Tully to rule House Tully and had proven himself to be Sansa’s biggest emotional support. His political genius, his skills and his knowledge of military expertise were the pillar of her reign. Her relationship with him had evolved for the better. He was a survivor of their family’s demise just like her. They agreed on everything most of the time. The only subject they seemed to disagree on concerned her betrothal to Petyr Baelish. Uncle Brynden despised the man with no restraint. He had made it a mission to find a better match for her. He wanted her to take a spouse in one of the northern houses instead.

 

“ Would someone like to explain what to expect from Ned’s bastard?” Lord Manderly spoke from Sansa’s left.

A fidgeting silence. It was uncle Brynden who finally spoke up, with an insulting look in his eyes.

“ Jon is more than Eddar Stark’s bastard now, he’d proved it when he rode that flying creature all over here and besieged the north with countless men. He is a prince.” Uncle Brynden almost spat the words.

 

Lord Manderly shrugged. “A prince that drove his army North, against us.”

 

“These troops have settled here now and no longer represent a danger to the North.” Sansa said more smoothly, distracted by the look in Lyanna Mormont face.

 

“ They are Daenerys Targaryen’s soldiers nonetheless.” Lyanna asked warily.

Sansa understood then why the youngest member of her council harbored such sullen mood today. She did not trust Jon.

“” They belong to Jon and obey his orders. They will bend the knee the same way he did yesterday.” Sansa replied

“ Those men are barbarians from Essos and former slaves, they only serve one queen and that is not you... Your Grace.” Ser Locke said, he bowed his head slightly to soothe the impact of his statement.

 

“Jon did not come north to declare war against us. He came back home, he came back to help us in this time of crisis. We need this. We cannot reject him just because of his name.”  
Sansa, spoke while her heart’s beating rate accelerated triggered by the weight of her disguised lies.  
She knew nothing about Jon’s motives and why he refused to fight against her yesterday.  
She was hoping to align him to her cause. Surely he would not refuse to help after battling the white walkers himself in the past ? He was a child of winter, he was raised to fear this day the same way she did. They had to be allies.

 

“ That is my opinion also, if he wanted war he could have had it. And as of now, his men did not march against us since he paid his due respect to our queen.” spoke Lady Eddara Tallhart from Sansa's right.  
She offered The new Lady of Torrhen’s Square a brief smile in response.  
Eddara has become the only person Sansa could call a friend. Even though their interactions were mostly filled with politics and administration, Sansa knew she could count on Eddara.

 

“ They could be waiting for a more opportune moment to strike” spoke Jonelle Cerwyn the new Lady of Cerwyn.

 

“ We cannot afford to lose our strength and men in unnecessary battles now when there is a greater threat on the way. We cannot risk it.” Sansa returned vehemently.

 

“ But; your grace, you do not intend to keep these men here? They are not like us, we do not even speak their language. They could harm our families any time.” said Lady Barbrey of House Dustin.

 

“ Jon would not allow it. He can speak to them. He can get them to respect and serve the north.”

 

“ Where was he all this time? Where was he when Winterfell was taken by the Boltons?”

 

“ The same place you were, Lord Manderly, mending your business and attending to your own interest.”

He stared at her, white-faced. Sansa swallowed hard, appalled by her own impetuosity.  
But she could not forget Lord Manderly’s ostensible support of House Bolton in the claiming of Winterfell.

  
She looked around the table, most of these people turned their backs on House Stark and supported Ramsay Bolton. But she gave them a second chance and allowed them at her table. Yet they seemed determined to condemn Jon over something he could not control. His blood.  
At least her brother...cousin was not a betrayer like them.  
He came with help and what The North needed.

 

“ Surely Daenerys Targaryen instigated his arrival here. She already sent men to claim the Reach in the same fashion.” Lyanna Mormont insisted.

 

The question hit home and Sansa’s cheeks suffused with purple. She knew what the queen wanted and could only describe Jon’s change of heart yesterday as a miracle by the Gods themselves. There were too many uncertainties and too many questions to reconsider. But she could not risk alienating her council members against him, now.

 

“I did speak of battle when I gathered our men to stand against him. I expected to see my people die in the battlefields and my kingdom taken away from me. But it did not happen.  
Instead, my enemy bowed down to me and vowed to respect my throne.”

She paused and stared at these men who came to mean so much to her, after a year of shared misery and fears. “If a lost friend came back to you and offered to serve you in a time of crisis; would you not extend your hand to him?”

“ He is hardly a friend.” Uncle Brynden intervened. “ He is family, someone our queen grew up with. If she deems him worthy of her trust, we cannot question her.”

 

“ But what about his loyalty to the dragon queen? She legitimized him and lavished him with titles. We cannot disregard that part. Now that we have allowed a Targaryen in our lands, people will ask if we are ruled from the Iron Throne or Winterfell.” Wyman Manderly prompted.

 

“ We have no authority over people’s questions, only their actions matter.”

Lord Manderly dared for a moment to give her a look of disapproval then glanced over the room for support. Seemingly, no one shared his thoughts.  
It will not be long, she thought. Sansa believed he will challenge her soon enough but not today.

She looked back at the centre of the table where laid their planning cards.

“ Now we have to think about a way to accommodate ten thousand and nine hundred men and a dragon." She smiled, " I am open to suggestions.”

 

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Winter storms lashed upon Winterfell, there was white water even in most hidden places, and the skies had turned the color of lead. The sinewy streets within the town were swept with lashing rain and salt spray. Caravans and big tents still filed the Kingsroad, and a dragon was anchored in the middle, separating the castle from the newly restored tents.

Sansa looked outside from her tower window then returned to the room. Pacing back and forth anxiously.

 

“ I need to go to him.” she breathed, gathering her hands together.

 

“No, you do not.” replied Uncle Brynden from behind his desk, without looking up from the letter he was writing to his nephew.

 

“ I need to know where he stands when it comes to the north I need to know more about his goals.”

 

“ I thought you knew it all? Was it not what you assured your council members of, this morning?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She paused and glanced at the window again.

 

“ I am relatively certain that he is no threat to me. I could not let them discard him just over the simple fact that he is no longer a snow and father’s son. He is still a Stark.”

 

“ Starks do not ride dragons. Granted he looks as sullen as your father and his younger brother used to be. Do you know that I have only exchanged ten words with your father throughout all the time I’ve known him? What a morose thing that man was.”

 

“ He was not always like that The war changed him and aunt Lyanna’s death too.”

Sana had to admit she knew little of her father beside what everyone knew of him. His exploits as a swordsman, his sense of honour his fall…

 

“ He was always like that. Brandon was the only well-spoken out the bunch. Benjen, that one was the gloomiest.”

 

“ Robb was different. He was born to be a knight, a prince, a king.”

 

“Thanks to the Tully blood.”

 

“ Jon is the prince now, he could be a king one day and have a kingdom bigger than the north.”

 

“What do you want from him?”

 

“I... I want to win this war and I can do it with him by my side. Nothing more.”

 

“Which war?”

 

“I do not understand your question, there is only one war; The war for survival of the children of the first men against the others.”

 

“ What about the one raging in your mind in this moment?”

 

“There is no such thing. I have to think of way to ally him to the north, to me.”

 

“ You’ve never spoke of him since we took back Winterfell. Everytime you talk about your siblings he is never mentioned. And now he is the only thing in your mind.”

 

“ Not true.” she said harshly, more than she intended to. “ The north is the only thing in my mind. I have to think about pregnant women killing their unborn babes for fear of submitting them to this dark age. I have to think of my little brother who refuse to heal from his internal wounds. I have to think about regaining the Kingdom of Isle and Rivers to survive the long night. I have so much in my mind. Jon is surely not my main preoccupation.” She explained tersely, realizing immediately that a simple rejoinder would have been considerably more convincing both to herself and to Uncle Brynden and flushed slightly with irritation.

Uncle Brynden stared at her, his lips curled in a smile. Not impressed by her explanations.

“ Well, I cannot tell you what a relief that is! I thought for a moment that your interest for him might be due to…”

 

“ To what ? Fear for my people and my land?”

 

“ No, those games  you play with Ser Baelish. I find it disturbing that he’d not come to you in a time like this.”

 

“What! Ser Baelish has nothing to do with this army of thousands men at our doors.” She snapped bitingly.

 

He gave no indication of even having heard her.

She fell silent, preoccupied with the throbbing in her heart. She could not understand why the mere mention of her betrothed prompted a surge of indignation in her. After a moment however it occurred to her that her relationship with Petyr will always be a source of indignation and frustration. She demanded and took too much from him. And now she was indebted to him. He owned her.

 

“ What does the Targaryen want?” he asked pensively.

 

Fighting the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she swallowed against the painful knot in her throat before she could trust herself to speak.

“ Jon wants to come home and I want his army and his dragon’s fire. He can give it to me. He will give it to me.” she finished, turning and starting to walk up to the door.

 

“ Where are you going, my queen?”

 

“ I have to talk to him.”

 

“ You cannot walk in the middle of the enemy's army.”

“ That is fitting because I am going to war.”

  
A different type of war.

 

 

 

She walked out of the solar and made it back to her bedroom. Ghost bonded off of the bed and trotted to her enthusiastically. She laughed and petted his head. Feeling the familiar warmth from his fur, she gave up and sat down on the floor, holding the beast against her heart.

 

“ I do not know what to do. Ghost.”

He whined and licked her hand. Sansa shivered.

 

“ You know him better than me. What is he like? Am I going to win him over?”

 

The wolf looked back then tugged his head against hers. She laughed.

 

“ Does it mean, yes?” she asked quizzically, eyes dancing with merriment.

 

When she got not reactions from Ghost, she sighed loudly. Feeling a definite sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

 

“ I know I am asking for too much. And I have no right to do so. I am not Arya or Robb. I do not know him or how to talk to him.”

She caressed the direwolf’s fur absently. “ We both could have been friendlier with each other or share moments together. But he was always in the mud, sparring with Robb and Theon. And when he was not, he had Arya shadowing him. And there were mother and her issues with him.  
I could not…” she sighed. It did not matter anymore.

Petyr wanted her to use their family ties to convince Jon to serve her but there were numbers of problem with that. She did not know him and he certainly did not feel like family to her after all those years.  
The only time she thought of Jon as more than her bastard half-brother was when she was running to him at Castle Black.  
And the outcome of that time of her life taught her how wrong she was.

She'd learned from the best how to obtain everything she wanted. Mostly from men. They were easy to manipulate, seduce and lure.  
Women too, although they came with different rules. But at the end the result was still the same. Everyone had a price and she had to figure it out before them. Find what their hearts desire the most. Make it hers then make them beg for it.  
But Sansa was tired of thinking, predicting and anticipating people's actions. The only true interactions she had in her life were with Rickon and Uncle Brynden.  
They were rare and precious amongst countless hollow conversations.

Sansa called for her maids and ordered for a bath and her finest dress and fur.

 

“ We are going to see Jon. So I can show him how well I took care of you.” Sansa said eagerly.

She felt the direwolf’s muscles straightening under her touch. He bumped her arms away from him then jumped in the bed.

“ What is it? You do not wish to see him?”

He whimpered and laid his head down the bed.

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The oil lamp flickered, throwing shadows on the silk roof of the tent.  
Jon sat asleep, on a high-backed chair behind one of these diaphanous curtains, his presence concealed by the shadows. The lighting inside had been so arranged she could see into his side of the tent but remain an anonymous observer. She was determined to win this man, as surely as she had learned oratory from Petyr Baelish and geometry and mathematics from her former tutor, Maester Luwin.

She flapped the tent apart and approached him. She stood by the chair, staring down on him.  
How to reconcile this intimidating man with her reserved bastard half-brother? His presence thrilled her, yet the emotional part of their reunion had been nothing like she had imagined.  
She thought there would be tenderness, and there were none. He came to her as a stranger and enemy that ultimately surrendered to her. The anger she felt at his taunting of her in the battlefield had been quickly replaced by bewilderment at discovering that she evidently possessed something that had made him surrender without a word from her. Something he was eager to explore.

It was as if she had been initiated into a conspiracy rather than induced into a family a reunion.

His eyes opened. Starling Sansa, she took a step back.

 

“ Queen Sansa!” he whispered. His face broke out into an arrogant grin that creased his eyes in the most appealing way. “ Do you like what you see?”

She felt her eyes flare as a tendril of panic shot through her, she’d not realised that she was staring and how improper it was.

She rose to her fullest height and forced her throat to work. “ I was hoping to have a talk with you, Prince Targaryen.”

 

“ Please call me, Jon. Just like before.” He said walking away from the chair. Walking to the food set on the table in the middle of the tent. Jon poured more wine into a jasper goblet and went to sit on his chair.

He did not even ask how she got into his tent.  
Sansa was surprised when she met Jon’s guards waiting for her in front of Winterfell gates. They led her to him in silence as if they knew she would come.

“ Sit with me, let’s eat.” He suggested.

“ Food does not interest me over much.” she said, but looking at the food she found to her surprise, that she was hungry. And was that lemon cakes on the table?

She attacked the food with abandon as they observed each other in silence.  
Sansa was just beginning to relax when he spoke.

“ I knew you would come to me.” He said, apparently delighted by the sight.

“ I knew I had to come.” She offered with a shy smile.

“ So this is the Queen In The North.”

“ I hope you are not disappointed.”

“ I am not disappointed at all. Neither in your company. Although I still cannot believe you abandoned your fairy tales and songs to play queen and battles.”

 

“ This is not a game. I am a Stark I was born to rule. But obviously you would not understand.” Those words slipped out of her mouth with urgency before she could bite her tongue.

Jon’s keen dark eyes narrowed, sharp in their nest of long eyelashes.

The word ‘bastard’ resonated in the air even though it was not spoken.

“ How so? Am I not a Prince?”

 

“ A Prince? Where exactly do you rule? On the road leading Daenerys men to conquer lands for her?”

 

His eyes narrowed to slit. “ I am her heir and the commander of her army.”

 

“ You meant her manservant?”

“ I do not think that is the proper way to address a prince.”

 

Sansa realised she was going about it the wrong way. She had to use another approach.

“ A prince that surrendered to me. Does it still mean something ?”

 

“ I did bend the knee to my sister, I bent the knee to house Stark in memory of father and”

 

“ Your sister?” She cut him off, incredulous. Something about the way he said those words irked her. As if there were no other merits behind the respect he gave to her, other than their blood ties. “ But you are ready to disregards my interest in our own homeland for the sake of a foreigner.” Jon winced under the venom dripping from her words.

 

“ I did not even know that you were still alive. I only came because I thought the Boltons still had the North. I thought I knew what had happened to our family. That is why I did not come back.”

 

“ You knew nothing of what had happened to us but you heard of what the Lannisters, the Freys and Bolton had done to father’s legacy. They stripped us of our lands and honour. What did you do then, Jon? You stayed with a stranger.” he said indignantly.

Silencing her before she could open her mouth to speak. He added in a hoarse whisper.

“ Things did not happen that way. And don't you dare make it sounds like I abandoned our family.”  
A tendril of fear ran down her spine.

“ But you did!” She gasped a little desperately, raising up from her seat.

Jon did the same, his eyes gleaming with anger and...sadness?

“ They took Arya, Bran, Robb and mother from me. I was abused in our home. Where were you Jon? What did you do all these years.” she shouted, taking urgent steps to him.

 

“ I was at The Wall fighting for a greater cause, Sansa. I tried to break my oath after I heard what had happened to father. I tried but my place was not here.”

 

“ You... You could…”

 

“I would not sit here and let you blame me for that” he barked at her.

 

“ Then do something! Avenge their deaths.” Sansa hissed.

 

“ How? By raising another war against people who no longer are?”

 

“ By standing by our father’s legacy. By standing by me.”

 

_Please. Do not leave me alone again. I am so worn down by years of sparring against the world on my own._

 

“ I did bend the knee to you, what else do you want from me?” he asked calmly now.

Sansa realised then that Jon’s temper was probably dangerous because he was a man who kept himself in careful control.  
But she was determined to break his control. 

 

“ Then why are your men packing and preparing to leave the north. Jon where are you going?” She shouted. And before she could swallow the words back they spurted out of her. “ You cannot leave.”

 

“ I am not leaving, Sansa. I want home, our home. My soldiers are just going back to King’s Landing.”

 

“ Soon there will be no home if we cannot protect it.”

Silence fell between them. Jon watching the table, and her watching him. He fidgeted, as if being here with here was uncomfortable, as if her gaze was painful.

 

“Sansa…”

 

“ Why are you sending your army back?” She cut him off.

 

“ Because they belong to Daenerys and she will call them back. They do not belong here; they barely can abide this devastating weather.”

 

“ You cannot let it happen. We need these men here in the north to prepare for what is to come. We need a bigger army for the sake of humankind.”

 

“ You have an army.”

 

“ By the Gods, can you not see that is not enough?”

 

“ I cannot give you something that does not belong to me.”

 

“ You are a prince, you are Rhaegar’s son. You have as much claim to the Iron Throne as her. These men followed you here and they should remain by your side.”

 

“ Is it what you want? A civil war? A Targaryen against a Targaryen.”

 

“ It is not about what I want. It is about what should be done in a desperate time like this. Jon you know, you’ve been there, you fought them beyond The Wall. You and I can save the north and rule together.”

She did not wish to sound desperate or beg, but the painful tightness in her throat would not allow her to speak with calm.  
She was struggling to get to him, he kept slipping away from her.

  
_Was it too late for her to make him change his mind? Was that foreigner queen that precious to him that he would abandon his family again?_

 

“ Are you mad? You want me to usurp my aunt’s throne so we can battle against monsters and die? Why don’t you try to ally yourself with Daenerys? Surely she would come to aid if she knew about this great threat.”

 

“ I refuse to ally myself with a foreigner who want to steal my lands. I cannot trust a Targaryen. The North would never accept it.”

 

“ But look at you coming like a supplicant, seeking the help of another Targaryen.”

 

Sansa’s hand flew to his face before she could stop it but his reflexes were acute.  
His callused hand reached out and snatched up her wrist and held it in a tight, controlling grasp. He pulled her flush against him in the same momentum.  
Sansa expelled a shallow pant of air as unwanted attraction practically consumed her whole. Her mind was so blown away with his touch that she could barely register what led to this situation. She had to concentrate.

“ You cannot do this to me again. ”

 

“ What exactly have I done to you?” He pulled her face to his until they were staring at each other, both dragging in air.

He was angry now. _Good. Let down those walls, let me in._

 

“ Abandoning me when I need you the most just like you did three years ago when you left Castle Black before I could reach you.”

 

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when it did, Jon's body stiffened against hers.

 

“ I am sorry”

 

“ Why?” asked Sansa, drawing out the word, “ Why would you?”

 

“ Because I know how dehumanising it is to be helpless.”

 

 _Seven hells_! He pitied her. He saw her like the fragile little girl she was before. She wanted to be strong. To show him how strong she had become on her own.

“ I know that we all have lost something when we left Winterfell! But everything that happened to me did not leave me broken. I assure you” Sansa stared at him for a split second. “ It crafted my spirit and helped me find my identity. I am a true Stark of Winterfell. ” She swallowed hard as his hold on her wrist tightened.

 

" I am sorry, Sansa."

 

" I do not want your pity. I want..."

Sansa discovered her mind had gone perfectly blank. Her heart was slamming against her ribs like a frantic birds trying to get free.  
She closed her eyes in fears as her walls stumbled down, all over her, in a spiral of images of the past.  
The tears that she was fighting back came to her then.

  
Her heart broke for her little sister who was so full of life, the sister who disappeared before Sansa could know how much she loved her.  
She cried for her father who had to lie and soil his honour to save her life, after she betrayed him. She clung to him as her mind raced to Robb. Her beloved brother, her hero, her knight who died too soon in the name of their family.

Sansa missed her brother, Rickon, even though she got him back. She missed the little boy he was before their parents died, the one who looked at the world with fierce blue eyes. But there were moments when it helped that he had become a shell, a ghost of his former self. Ghosts do not ask questions.

 

“ I died!” He murmured against her skin, so fast, she was uncertain she’d heard those words from him.  
She stiffened when she felt wetness against her neck where he buried his face.

 

“ Then I was brought back by a mad woman.”

 

“ Jon...”

 

“ They killed me. My brothers. They threw their swords into my flesh until I was no longer. And Sansa I felt nothing. Even now I cannot feel a thing. Death is emptiness and cold. And it is still inside me, I cannot take it away from my lungs, from my bones.”

 

“ That’s not true.” She negated flatly, holding him tighter, sinking her hand in his curls.

He sighed and moved his head out of the crook of her neck. He brushed his nose against her dampened face.

 

“ When I came back a piece of me was left dead.”

 

He cupped her face and pushed his torso into hers.

 

“ Sometimes I have moments of absence where I go back there in the cold and emptiness. I move out of my spirit and forget who I am. My body goes ramming around on its own and there is no way to snap out of the trance.”

 

Sansa did not know what to say. Her body choked a sob back, all she could do was hold him tighter as tears slipped from her.

Her eyes snagged on him. There was something in him, distant and sad, in his hollow eyes and his callous hands around her. She could not stand to blink while looking at him, in case he would disappear when her eyes open.  
He lifted his chin, as If trying to hear a far-off voice. For a moment he looked so unbearably lost and then he pushed into her again, his face claiming the cradle between her neck and shoulder.

 

“ One time I was visiting Dragonstone I had one of those moments. It was the coldest and the darkest. I did loose notion of breathing and it lasted a month. I was running around without knowing what I was doing; It was like dry storm. All I could see was cloud and winds and the cold kept growing, swallowing everything. I wanted it to swallow me too. There were no reason to keep living in that shape. My mind burned up by the cold like a piece of paper, curling on itself until there was nothing left of me.”

 

“Jon…”

 

“That was how Rhaegal found me.”

 

“ Rhaegal?”

 

“ My dragon. He was flying above the city when he saw me. it took me inside a cave and proceeded to take care of me. spreading its warmth over me until I broke through the cold and came back to myself. Afterward Rhaegal brought me to Daenerys.”

 

“ Your dragon saved your life.”

 

“ He did. I have not had another one of those moments since I woke up next to Rhaegal.”

 

“ I am glad you survived and healed.”

And Sansa realised with relief how true those words were. She was glad he made it back to her.  
Even though there was a part of her that resented him for leaving Castle Black before she could get to him. She knew it was irrational to guard hard feelings over it but she could not help it.  
He was the last thread of hope tying her to that inane idea that a man could save her.  
Men were supposed to be braves, good and protectives of women. They were supposed to be like her father and her brother, Robb. That was how the chords and lyrics of songs always said.  
In reality they could become monsters that feed of vulnerabilities and fears. Her fears.

Since that day, she vowed to herself to never count on anyone but herself. _No one can save anyone_.

 

“ But Sansa when I walked north I felt the cold again. Crouched in the dark, waiting for a way in.”

 

“ No. You will not relapse,” Her voice broke as she breathed “I will keep you warm.”

He took a step back to observe her. Something almost like a smile flickered on his face.

 

“ How do you intend to do it?”

Sansa felt blood rushing under her skin as she realised how improper her words had the potential to be. She cleared her throat. And tried to take a step back herself but her body knocked against the table behind.

 

“ Erh...we will protect each other like wolves do when winter comes.”

 _Really Sansa? Why don't you try to sing a song to him now as well?_ She chastised herself from within. _You are better than that with words_.  
The entirety of her body blushed with embarrassment as she waited for his answer. A reaction, anything.

 

His expression darkened. But he nodded as if she had confirmed his suspicions. And then his hand rose and touched her face so casually. Now that they were no longer trapped in a whirlwind of emotions and tears like a moment before, his contact felt different. Improper.

Gently, his thumb rubbed against her lower lip, as though he was curious about its texture. He tilted her face to the side with one finger then moved those inquiring digits upon her scalp. He took a strand of hair and observed it intensely.

Sansa was so shocked that she just stood there. Nobody has ever done that before. At least not since her coronation. He just touched her. Like he had the right to do so. Like he was a prince and her a common girl. 

Sansa drew a shaky breath and backed away.

 

“ I hope we came to an understanding.” she whispered when she established a safe distance between them.

He smiled with a nod.  
Watching her with inscrutable expression on his beautiful face.  
She walked over to the other side of the table.  
He did not move to get closer. Sansa knew he was giving her space, and she felt pathetically grateful- because something deep inside her sensed that he could have easily gone further.

 

“ I want to go to Winterfell.” His voice wavered then broke. “ May I? Just for tonight.”

 

“ Of course. I came here to fetch you. It is time for Rickon to see you” she said with enthusiasm. She was absolutely mesmerised, and pretty sure he knew it.

This will be good for Rickon. Good for me

He closed his eyes at those words with contentment. “ Please bring me to him.” he breathed.

 

They returned to Winterfell in silence, riding their horses side by side.

 

“ What time is it? “He said peering up at the sky.

 

“ What time do you want it to be? “ She said quietly.

 

“ I do not know how to tell days from nights here.”

She looked up the sky. The storm had stopped, leaving the sky dark and drained. The air around them felt heavy, as if the space was shrinking.

“ They say time run exquisitely slower in winter. And soon there will be no such thing as time. Winter will freeze it all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Random Thoughts]
> 
> I did some researches about Northern Houses for that first scene of Sansa and her council meeting. I was surprised when I realised that most of the great northen houses no longer have male heirs because of wars! As of now ( ADWD timeline) there are so many 'Lady of *insert town* 'in the north and they are ruling! LOL  
> They will probably get married off to some dudes from minor houses but it's still great that ladies get to rule.


	3. Pride And Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be angsty and plot driven but I figured out that it would be good to write something lighter because of this 'JonSa Valentine's Day' thing from tumblr.
> 
> I'm really in need for a beta! Please if anyone out there would like to help me with this story, let me know in the comment section.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JON**

The candles were burning steadily on the shelf, casting pools of dancing light on the walls. Jon stood by the door and watched Sansa as she sat on the bed next to Rickon. He looked so small in his nest of covers.  
A moment later Rickon’s eyes flickered open, bold and blue. He was not even fully awake when he frowned deeply and sat up. His gaze went straight to the window.

“What is it?” Sansa asked before glancing back at him with purple raising on her cheeks. She looked embarrassed as if someone walked on a secret she held dearly.

Rickon began to pick at a thread on the bedspread, his eyes still staring out the window. He did not remember this boy to be a quiet thing. He was always escaping the nurses' vigilance and running about the castle with loud laughters. Old Nan always complained about his vitality.

Rickon began humming a rhyme.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, walking closer to the bed. Sansa ran her hands through the boy’s hair, trying to untangle it.  
Rickon met his eyes, but did not stop humming. Jon stood frozen as he waited for the recognition in the boy’s eyes. There were nothing. His little brother did not remember him.  
His fingers kept pulling at the stray thread as the melody finally trails off.

“I just wish they’d stop playing.” he pouted.

“Playing? You think it’s a game?” Sansa asked, her airy voice fuelled with sadness.

Rickon nodded seriously. “They asked me and Shaggydog to come play, too, but I said no. I’m not afraid,” he added quickly, “but it was just, they came so late.”

“What do you mean, they, Rickon?” Jon asked before he could bite his tongue, Sansa shot him a deathly glare.

“Bran and Arya.”

“Arya?” Jon asked, the name caught in his throat. The girl who always took his hand during their countless trolls in the godswood, a splash of freckles and a cluster of dark hair travelled in his mind.

Rickon leaned forward, in the exaggerated way children do when confiding a secret.

“I heard them, out there.” he pointed to the world beyond the window, soaked in the dark.

“When did you hear them? Before we came?”

He nodded, matter-of-fact.  
“Are you sure you did not dream it?” he felt his eyes moving to Sansa in quest for clarifications but she held her eyes on Rickon’s face, while her knuckles whitened where she trapped a piece of the cover under her fingers.

Rickon shook his head, focusing again on the window.

“Did you see anything out there?” Sansa asked lightly kissing the boy’s forehead.

“No, it was too dark.”

 

“If they come to call you to play again, come to me.” Sansa paused then forced a smile on her face. “I would like to play too. We could run about the Godswood with Shaggydog and Ghost.”

 

Jon could hear the night winds roaring and buffeting the castle’s walls, curling almost like voices.

 The room was filled with silence after a long moment as Sansa held the boy. Together they began to hum a quiet tune, full of broken notes and awkward pauses, but he knew it.  
A chill ran through him as their voices trailed off. He remembered this rhythm from another life.  
He was a child then, suffering of a late night fever. Lady Catelyn had come to him that night. She’d brushed his sweaty forehead with her cold hand and hummed this rhyme to him until he fell asleep.  
He could not remember another moment of tenderness he garnered from that woman beside that one.

  
Jon shifted in his coat and forced his eyes away from them.  
He felt like he was intruding on a ritual, a secret conversation.  
Something felt wrong.

Rickon pulled out of Sansa’s embrace when the rhythm ended and his eyes shifted between him and her.

 

“ Bran said you would come.” he shouted enthusiastically.

Jon was still taken aback by the boy’s sudden outburst and change in demeanour.

 

“ You...you remember me?” he stuttered.

“ Of course! You are our brother” he paused trying to decipher his own thoughts before adding. “ Only half of you is our brother.” he said triumphantly as if he finally grasped a foreign concept.

_Oh Rickon, if only you knew. Even that half is no longer your brother. I am just your cousin. A stranger._

 

“ Shaggydog knew Ghost was coming back too. I told Sansa but she would not believe me.” He huffed, his voice filled with reproach. He walked out of the bed.

Sansa let out a strangled laugh and shook her head.

 

“But you told me last year! How could I know this day would come?”

 

Jon smiled as Rickon’s shape sprung up in front of him. His eyes narrowed up to him.  
“ Are you back for good?” He asked.

Jon knelt, looking at Rickon face-to-face, his hands resting on his shoulders. “ I am going to stay here with you and Sansa forever” he said, surprised by how quietly it came out, like a promise.  
His eyes moved behind Rickon’s back to Sansa’s awe-struck face. “ If you would have me.” he added. She nodded eagerly while tears crystallized in her orbs.

 

He tugged at the boy’s back and held him against his heart while tears slipped under his face.  
Something within him was left undone, shattering in a million pieces.

Rickon pulled away from the embrace and laughed at Jon’s teary face wiping his tears away with his tubby fingers.

 

“ Ghost said you came home with a big bird.” he said, eyes widening, blue circles like pieces of summer sky.

 

“ Aye! I did.”

“ He does not like the bird or its owner.”

Jon felt his cheeks reddening as Sansa shot him a questioning look. More than anything the boy’s words bashed him with guilt for their validity; and something else...something akin to fear.

How could he know so much and yet so little?  
He spoke of Bran and Arya as if they were still amidst them, could predict his return with certainty and even figured out how strained his relationship with the direwolf had become.

 

“ Not ot a bird but a dragon and I am its owner. I do not think Ghost is cross with me, do you?”

 

“ Not you, the lady with fire. Your other half from the warm lands.” Rickon insisted with a frown.

The scowl on Sansa’s face deepened, tilting her head to the side with a suspicious look in those maddening blue eyes.  
Jon looked down at the boy as he felt his entire body reddening. He did not wish for this part of his life to follow him here. Without knowing why, he wanted to keep his past relationship with Daenerys secret.  
If Sansa’s fury from earlier was any indication of how she felt about the dragon queen, learning about his time with her, would complicate his hunting of her trust.  
Then he was annoyed at his own thoughts process. Why should he lie and cover up something from his life to be accepted by the Starks again? Even with Catelyn resting in the seven hells, he was still deemed unfit in this place.

“ Did he say that?” he asked tentatively, resisting the urge to gawk at Sansa’s reactions; focusing on Rickon but he could feel Sansa’s eyes on him like warm caresses.

Rickon shook his head. “He showed me. hunger, fear in him, fear for you. Fear of you.  
I saw the dark cage, I felt fire pitching into his fur. I felt his body thrown against the warm wall and his bones breaking. I saw it all. ”

He gulped. He knew that his direwolf had tried too many times to protect him while he was trapped in his moments of absence. But he surely did not know what happened around him in that state. He could not remember a time when he mistreated Ghost. The simple thought of it made him sick.

Rickon hand on his face brought him back to the present. “ I am happy you are here. Will you show your bird to me?” he whispered.

Jon chuckled, leaning in to whisper in the boy’s ear. “ It can fly very high and it is made of fire.”

His eyes wide, “ Is it a secret?”

Jon figured out then that in Rickon’s world, secrets were almost as fun as games. He wanted to play in.  
“Very much so,” he said, his fingers dancing down his arms to Rickon’s hands, cupping them in his. Jon brought their cradled hands up to his lips, whispering into the small place between the boy’s palms. “Can you keep it for me?”  
Rickon smiled and pulled his hands back to himself, still cupping the secret as he might a butterfly.

They talked for a very long time about their time in Winterfell. He made Sansa laugh as they remembered the games of knights and maiden she used to coerce her brothers into playing.  
Jon could not control his laughter when Sansa brought up the first time her lady mother found Arya wearing a pair of breeches. Then, there were moments of silence when all they could do was to conceal the pain of their loss.

  
They have lost so many things after they left their home. But they gained too.  
He could see It in Sansa’s eyes that this change they all went through did not ruin them completely.

  
He could not remember a time when he was grateful for having this girl next to him. Looking at the small boy smiling and laughing between them, Jon could feel his love for him burgeoning in him again. He wanted to protect and love this child like his father-uncle loved him. He’d been afraid that his connection with Winterfell had severed with time, but here time ceased to exist like Sansa said.  
He was persuaded of it until his gaze locked with Sansa’s. Her blushed face glowing in the small light of the room, twisted something in him.  
He reverted his eyes back to Rickon quickly.

  
He could not understand why the boy surged the same warmth and brotherly tenderness like before but not Sansa. She confused and fascinated him in a way he feared.  
Granted they were never close and her mother had made sure to keep the only daughter that favoured her colourings away from the bastard boy, but he still viewed her like his sibling back then. Now, she was the queen that had marched upon him even though she knew she was going to lose and die. There was darkness in her that he could feel in his bones. He wanted to touch and shatter It away.

 

They left Rickon’s bedroom after he could not keep up with their conversations anymore and fell asleep. Sansa took his hand and led him to the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**SANSA**

 

  
Sansa took Jon to the crypt beneath the gleaming white marble dome of Winterfell.

She had always found it a frightening place, the long descent down echoing stone steps into the vault where the smell of mold and decay was unmistakeable beneath the sweet layers of the scent of burnt candles.  
In the middle of the crypt lay the body of her father surrounded by his elder son and wife. All around the tombs were masses of flowers, some whitened with ages, other still blooming.

 

“ I came here daily when I was Ramsay’s prisoner. Offering a white rose to father and mother for keeping me alive another day.” She spoke. “ With Rickon, it became our routine. We come here every morning with white roses. Now, that there are no longer blooming here because of winter we come with candles”

Jon was overwhelmed by what he saw, his eyes never leaving Lyanna’s statue. He had taken no more than a few steps into the crypt when he gasped and fell to his knees.

She was astonished. It was the first time she had seen him in awe of anything. _He is human after all_ , she thought. _And what he must reveres is my own bloodline. Our bloodline._

Sansa took few steps back and let him talk to his mother privately.

For a long moment he did not speak, finally he said: “ She was far younger than me when she died. and yet she had caused the world’s biggest misfortune in history.”

“ She is not to fault for what men decided to do to push their ambitions or madness. She is not to blame for the rebellion neither are you.”

 

“ It was not worth it. What they did was so unnecessary.” He said quietly then moved to his feet.

 

“ You would say that even after you became a prince in the name of their love?”

 

“ Love?” he laughed bitterly. “ What they had was madness. There are more than enough deaths and a fallen dynasty to prove it. No matter what the songs say.”

 

“ You are right. In real life nothing is that easy and pure.” she stopped and bit her lips. “ Jon? Is It foul that I am glad that you are not my half brother after all?” she whispered and regretted it upon seeing the hurt in his eyes.  
She took a step toward him.

“ No, I do not mean it like that…’ she furrowed her brows. “ I am relieved that father did not dishonour mother after all. I am glad he kept Lyanna’s secret so dearly and raised you like a Stark with Arya, Robb, Bran, Rickon, and I.”

“ Aye! You would be. It's not like you were good at being my sister.” he said airily with a faint smile on his lips.

Reassured she took another step forward and took his hand in hers.

“ I was awful to you back then but now I will try to be a good cousin. You think we can do that?”

He gazed down at their intertwined hands and nodded.

“ I will hold you to your words, My queen.”

She smiled feeling warmth breathing all over inside.  
You should smile more, Prince Jon.

“ What happened to Rickon?” he asked while they journeyed out of the crypt.

 

“ I do not know.” she replied hastily.

 

“ Sansa…”

 

“ I truly do not know. When we reclaimed Winterfell we found him in a cell. He kept saying that Bran and Arya told him to wait in the cell for a game. He’s been saying it since then, everyday he is waiting for the game to end.”

 

He stopped and turned her around to face him.

“ A cell?” he asked tightly.

“ He was naked in a cell next to the hounds' cell.” she swallowed her tears back.  
Remembering that sad day was still hard for her.

 

“ One of his men told me that Ramsay wanted to feed him to his hounds.”

 

He shook his head and pulled her flush against him. She tried to pull back instinctively, but he held her tighter.

“ I felt it in my bones...the urge to make him pay. So I fed him to his hounds.”

She felt Jon’s body stiffened against her at those words. So, she pulled her face to look at him, expecting a look of disgust but there were nothing.

“ I hope you made that bastard’s agony last a very long time before you killed him.”

 

She nodded. “ I watched.” she breathed in ragged breath her eyes wide, while the image of Ramsay’s broken body flashed through her mind.  
It did not come with a sense of discomfort and fear like before. Now, she was proud of that kill.  
She did it for herself. She did it for Rickon.

 

“ Sweet girl!” he kissed her forehead.  
He pulled her against him again.

Sansa let him hold her while she felt a smile creasing on her face.

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

One and four nights had passed since their night in the crypt and Sansa had seen little of Jon.  
She knew he was still out there with his men, watching over her. Sometimes she could see him flying his dragon over Winterfell through the window of her solar; but beside these furtives moments, they hadn’t seen each other.  
It was just that Sansa was so engaged, always travelling from one meeting to another. When there were no meetings she had to administer a mountain of letters and parchments.

 

She knew from Uncle Brynden that Jon visited Rickon every day. They spent their days playing in his bedchamber or in the snow.  
She was surprised to hear that Jon had managed to convince Rickon to take his lessons with Maester Medrick again.  
Greater was her surprise when she found the boy one night adorning a proper hairstyle and buried in a book. She watched from afar and walked away.  
If Rickon health kept on increasing he might one day be able to take his rightful throne.

One morning after her meeting with House Umber upon the fate of the house that sold her little brother to Ramsay, Sansa was greatly frustrated and torn between what was right and her need to strip the Umbers from their land.  
She thought about giving it to the Cassels but Uncle Brynden once reminded her of what was right and washed away the vengeful flame in her.

They were still engrossed in a conversation about the meeting when they walked into the Lord bedchamber. Sansa and her uncle stopped still, surprised by the sight.  
The bedchamber was turned upside and down while Jon and Rickon ran about the space playfully. Uncle Brynden shot her a look of disapproval but she smile instead and watched.

Rickon flopped across Jon’s arms like a wounded soldier, dribble rolling from the side of his cheek and down Jon’s arm. The little boy took a hold of his ears and tried to pull him backward across the floor. Jon let out a bellow, caught him by the arms, and rolled him over his shoulder. Both Jon and Rickon were shrieking with laughter.

Sansa watched Jon for a long time as he rolled about on the fox skin carpet with Rickon. She felt an unexpected surge of tenderness for him. She was reluctant to break the moment, but her talk with him could not wait longer.  
Still, she stood there with a smile on her face and only moved when she heard Uncle Brynden speaking to her.

 

“ They seem to get along perfectly.”

“ They do!” Sansa replied absently, her eyes stuck on the little boy who now had managed to chokehold Jon.

“ Mercy! Please have mercy, Lord Stark!” he screamed. Rickon’s laughters got louder.

“ It is not surprising. They are both children.” Uncle Brynden said with dark a ton.  
Sansa reluctantly took her eyes away from the playful mates and shot him a questioning look.

“ What do you mean?”

He ignored Sansa's look, his face settling into hard lines, burying the fatigue beneath his beard.

“ Our Targaryen guest is nothing more than a child. I have never seen a man of his birth rank denied of ambitions and strong will. He just want to serve. Before it was the Night Watch, then the Targaryen queen and now you.”

Sansa shook her head vehemently, feeling personally insulted by her uncle’s words

“ Jon is a ruler. He was born for it. Fate just decided against him too many times. But now he is at the right place. What he needs is for someone to tether the flame in him. Someone who can show him that he can rule the world if he so want to.”

Uncle Brynden rose his brows. “ And would that person be you?”

“ Of course.” she offered lightly, her lips stuck in a smile as she watched Rickon jump on Jon’s back and pull him down with him in the bed. He grunted loudly. Jon laughed. “ Jon and I will come together and save the north, save Westeros then it will be ours.” she said with assertiveness and she believed it to be true.

“ And where does your bethroned stand in that beautiful picture of the future?”

Sansa's smile vanished. “ Where he is supposed to be. By my sides.” she replied quickly, her eyes still fixed on the smile on her little brother's face.

Uncle Brynden wrinkled his nose as if he had scented something foul.

“ Well, you might as well join them.” he said after a long pause.

“ No. That would be folly. I am here to speak to Prince Jon.” Sansa shook her head feeling the heat of her body increasing.

“ Then, I shall retire. I will be waiting in my quarters for our meeting before the feast” he bowed his head to her and walked to the door.

As soon as he left, Sansa walked closer to the tempestuous fighters. She took hold of a pillow. Forcefully, she swung it against both their heads, dropping it in the same momentum.

Jon and Rickon both fell quiet, looking around at her with. .. surprise.  
Then, they shared a quick glance of malice.

Sansa felt every fibers in her body ringing as they both walked to her slowly, sizing her up and down like they would do a prey. She giggled uncomfortably.

“ Well. ..what do we have here?” Jon rumbled slowly. “ Is this a gesture of war, Your grace?” he asked.

  
Sansa took her cue and ran to the opposite direction. Jon and Rickon pounced with the same fervor. Before she could ran far they caught her. Her laughters were choked back when Jon’s strong arm sneaked around her waist and he pulled her up the floor.  
Sansa screamed when he pressed her back against his chest.

  
She could see Rickon pulling at Jon’s arm to set her free but Jon would not let her go.  
Jon turned her around with a swift move and squeezed her back in the same move. Sansa could not stop her screams from melding with her laughters.  
Before she knew It, he was twirling her around. She could only grasp his shoulders to keep herself still. Rickon grunted some more as Jon dropped her on the bed.  
She pushed him off her and made to run for the pillow. He dragged her back to him by a sharp tug of her boots covered feet. He pressed himself down on her.

 

“ Surrender.” he said in between his fits of laughters.

Sansa pulled her hands from under the pillows and tried to push him off of her.

 

“ No! Never!” she pulled at his jerkin, pulled at his hair.

Jon growled and held both of her wrist in his one hand and pulled her up to him. He held the captive wrists behind her back.  
Sansa’s laughters slowed a bit as the pulse under her skin started to beat harder, triggered by his proximity.

 

“ I would not let you get away with this treacherous attack against my hair. I shall take revenge.” he grunted against her neck.

Sansa's eyes widened when his words sank in.  
She peered over his shoulder for Rickon. She needed assistance.

 

“ Lord Stark, I need your help.” she begged in a high pitched tone.

 

Rickon was skipping up and down the floor. His bare feet landing on the floor with light thuds like rain on stones. He was completely disinterested by her wrestling with Jon, preferring playing games with the wooden floorboards instead.

Sansa sighed and averted her eyes back to Jon’s. They were darkened with malice and something else.  
She felt his fingers upon her scalp before she saw his arm lifting to her head.

He ran them through her hair slowly, making Sansa’s eyelids shudder shut. And just as suddenly as he put those fingers there, they pulled back at her hair and started undressing her hairstyle.  
Sansa opened her eyes quickly and snapped her teeth to bit him for lack of defense.  
He pulled and tugged at her hair gently until all it remained of it was messy threads that probably looked like a birds nest.

He let go of her then, the look of utter shock and anger she shot him working wonder on him.

She remembered spending two hours on this coiffure and he ruined it.  
It was as if she were possessed by a primal force when she launched forward and pushed him on the floor. She felt his body falling and screamed when he pulled her with him. Their eyes met amidst the fall and they laughed.

When the maids came in the room to fetch Rickon, to ready him for the feast, they gasped at the mess in the room. They watched with astonishment as their queen and the Targaryen prince played like children. They had never seen anything like this.

Sansa and Jon only ended their fight after Jon had surrendered to Sansa once again and had pledged allegiance to every single red strand on her head.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Sansa entered the great hall through great doors of ebony fretted with ivory and as tall as a trees. Her arrival was announced and a hush fell over the thousands gathered in the great hall for the feast.

She wore a gown of diaphanous blue dornish silk, of such texture and exquisite workmanship that it seemed to ripple, some said afterward, _as if the queen was wearing water._ It was the only vestige she kept from her time in the south. She usually dressed herself in the custom of northern ladies since she became queen. But tonight she wanted to stand out. The feast was the only festivity to take place in Winterfell since winter had come, it was an event of such importance that Sansa planned to enjoy as much as possible before they all had to return in the cold apprehension of what is to come.  
She wore a prince’s ransom in Red Sea pearls richly plaited into her hair. As she crossed the floor her braided silver sandals crushed the cold floor making her feet shivers under its touch.

 

She turned to the entire assembly and announced in a loud voice that Queen In The North and Prince Jon of House Targaryen had settled their differences and were now reconciled and would stand together against the threats beyond the wall.

The crowd cheered on cue, but with little genuine enthusiasm, Sansa thought. At a rehearsed signal, music started playing again and the feast was officially allowed to start.

The banquet had been organized by Sansa herself, and she had spared no expense, for it was the last festivity. There was purple shellfish, roasted wild duck, sea urchins in mint, roasted mouton, mushrooms, and sweet nettles honey. The best wine and ale spilled from golden goblets. Afterward the guests were entertained by dancers. They danced to the tender beats of harps and flutes and the clapping of hundred hands.  
Jon, stood up and raised his cup in the direction of herself and Rickon, and proclaimed that there was now peace between their Houses.

He was moving back to his seat when Sansa saw Lady Eddara Tallhart next to him. Lady Tallhart shared a look with the prince and together they laughed to some private jest.  
She could not have found anything that would have been more effective in bringing her crashing down from debilitating bliss to cold, clear headed logic.  
Her eyes narrowed to slit as she watched Jon leading Eddara Tallhart in the middle of the hall for a dance.

She leaned weakly back on her seat, listening to the harsh sound of music and acclaims. She reverted her attention to Rickon, playing with his food.

 

“ Oh that’s a new development that I forgot to mention.”  
Brynden glanced from the dancing pair to the queen who was glaring at him so accusingly. He wished fervently that he had not speak of the matter of Jon and his lady friend.

“ You speak to me of his whereabouts and everything he does in Winterfell everyday, but somehow you failed to mention this...burgeoning friendship?”

He really did not think it necessary for the queen to know which lady the Targaryen boy was entertaining. She was already well engrossed in everything related to him. That knowledge would have been another distraction she did not need.

“ Prince Jon always visit the godswood when he comes here. Somehow Lady Tallhart always find herself in his path on her way to the godswood. Naturally they found matters to talk about and became acquaintances.” Brynden tried to rise from his seat.  
Lady Dustin looked lonely, mayhap she would allow him a dance? He thought, looking at Barbrey Dustin on the queen’s left.

Sansa favoured him a look that froze him to his seat.

“ How long?”

Brynden aborted his attempt to rise. “ Since the day after his arrival.” he focused his attention on his plate once more.  
Try though he might however, he simply could not ignore the fact that Sansa continued to study him.  
He looked up finally, questioningly

“ Surely you do not mean to leave me all in suspense? What is it about?”

Brynden tried to look blank.

“ Something odd?” Sansa prompted.

Brynden could not think of anything he could subterfuge with the truth. “ Uh...I cannot recall exactly how it came to be. But I know that it will benefit the North.”

“That is my interest as well.” Sansa said, smiling, though Brynden couldn't help but notice the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

 

“ Oh...well, it occurred to me after seeing these two on their way to the godswood that Prince Jon is not legally bound to anyone, so is Lady Tallhart. So I Ieft my ears wander around and I found interesting details about your lady friend.”

 

“ Which is?”

 

“Eddara Tallhart is proficient in a wide range of weaponry, educated, and trained in the maintenance and management of an important northern House. She is conditioned in the womanly arts of virtue, modesty, and nurturing.” He ended his listing with a small smile.

“ Impressive!” Sansa acknowledged. “ Does it strike you that Lady Tallhart’s apparent attributes will lack use in a dynastic marriage since she is from a minor house?”

 

Brynden frowned, thinking it over. “ Actually, it does not have to play into the marriage. The entirety of Westeros is being rearranged now, majors houses had met their fall and the minors ones a have been elevated. I figured out that it would be wise for Prince Jon to take spouse in the north. Bounding him to the north through marriage will assure his loyalty.”

 

“ And elevate House Tallhart above House Stark.”

 

“ It does not have to be that way. You will remain the queen and the prince, your cousin, will be married to your friend and the next Targaryen dynasty will find its root here in the north.”

 

“ So, you concocted this plan with Lady Tallhart behind closed doors and did not think to tell me a word of it?”

 

“ No. Lady Tallhart is a sweet young woman. She does not have such ambitions. This is all just my own engineering of how to take profit of a situation that came naturally. He seems quite taken with her and she does too. So, we might as well use it.”

 

Sansa reverted her attention to the dancing couples. Suddenly it became very difficult to tend to her guests and emulate their cheerfulness when her insides tightened to the point of pain.  
Even though she knew her uncle was only thinking of the best interest of the north, she could not help but be angry at him for it. What was good for the North was not always good for her, Sansa Stark, the girl not just the queen.  
She wondered If Lady Tallhart’s vehement support of Jon at the council meeting was due to this situation her uncle spoke of. Sansa knew that no matter how much she tried to play the game, she remained a weak judge of characters. Her friend was obviously pursuing her own agenda and Sansa did not see it all along.  
She felt nothing but tenderness for Lady Tallhart and maybe she could grant her this. Give Jon to her and let them marry for her own sake.

_It could be that easy._

Sansa blue eyes lingered on the dancing couple for awhile. Strangely enough, however, Eddara’s behavior began to annoy her to the point that irritation gained the upper hand.  
The Lady of Tallhart’s Square was blatantly, flirting with Jon, there in the middle of the hall where everyone could see. She was giggling over nothing in particular, touching his arm, brushing imaginary lint from his hair.  
She was not entirely certain why she disliked it, but she found that the feeling of unease in her was slowly displaced by anger the longer she watched.  
It occurred to her after a while that Jon was not exactly flirting with Eddara. It was simply that he made no attempt to discourage her from flirting.

 

Sansa was still watching when Jon ended their dance with a respectful bow and moved back to his seat, a few feet away from hers.

Sansa looked at him thoroughly.  
He was an ordinary-looking man, except for those eyes, she thought. Yet now, when she looked at him, she felt a tightness in her chest that she could not explain. She kept wanting him to look in her direction, give her some sign, silent assurance that he was on her side, that what he was doing with Eddara was a terrible mistake. Sansa was still watching when one of Jon’s men came to him and whispered words to his ear.  
Jon’s glowing face shuttered suddenly. He excused himself and left the great hall.

* * *

 

 

**JON**

 

Jon saw Sansa sweeping toward him all silk and perfumed condescension. Her arms pressed against her chest and a deathly glare glued to her sapphires eyes.  
He sighed. He knew why she was cross with him and he could tell that she wanted to quarrel with him. But they had no time for this, now.

He walked fast to her. She stopped in her track with a gasp when he pulled her head in his hands and kissed the lilac scented skin of her forehead.  
She shivered against him and inhaled a sharp breath of contentment.

He kissed her forehead again, then her hair, temples, smooth cheeks and nose. She wriggled free from his hands with a giggle.

“ What is it?”

“ An attempt to get you in the best disposition before I tell you what I have to tell you.”

Her brows knit in puzzlement. “ Is it about Lady Tallhart? You do not need to. I already know.”

“ What? No!” Jon said sharply.

Lady Tallhart? What was that about?

He walked to the table and grasped the letter he just received. He walked back to her then gave her the parchment.

 

“ When I was Lord Commander of The Night Watch, I wrote a recommendation for a friend, the maester of Castle Black and sent him to Oldtown.”

Sansa read the letter with furrowed brows. Her eyes flew back to his in bewilderment.

“ Jon, this...this is amazing. He found a way to produce Valyrian steel in mass. We can defeat the white walkers now.” Sansa said with tears in her eyes.

 

“ Not really.” Jon corrected her and almost regretted to rain on her obvious endearment.

“ What? But he just wrote here that he found a formula and he will start working on it soon. “

 

“ He found the formula yes, but it's just an element of what is needed in order to forge those steel. He need those magic words, the fire of the earth, dragon’s fire and blood. Valyrian blood.” he said.

 

“ How is he going to find these missing elements in those lands?”

 

“ He already have the fire of earth in those volcanic areas. What is missing is here.”

 

“ The north? I would not think so. All we have is winter and snow.” Sansa snorted then paused when the realisation sank in. “ Jon…”

 

“ Yes. He need Targaryen blood and dragon’s fire. I have it all.”

 

Sansa shook her head and walked to him, she placed her hands on his chest. “ You cannot leave.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, basking In her scene for a moment.

“ I knew you would say this.”

 

“ Because there is no other way around it. I cannot let you leave now. Everytime a Stark leave Winterfell tragedy befall on him.”

 

“ But I cannot stay here when we are so close to even this war against the Others.”

 

“ Then, bring them here. Let your friend come to you and forge the steel here.” she favored him with a hunted look.

Pretending deafness, Jon rushed behind the desk again, binding to the floor behind the chair he pulled out a folded garment.

“ Since you refuse to let me go and we cannot bring them here. We are going to them.”

 

“ You know I am not holding you here against your will. I would gladly let you go back the south but I am only thinking of your safety. Starks can only survive in Winterfell and…” she paused. Her eyes widened suddenly. “ What do you mean ‘we are going to them.’? “

 

He laughed tossing the garment on the table.

“ You and I. Jon and Sansa. Sansa and Jon, we will fly there and give my friend what he needs.”

 

She shook her head, her expression torn between shock that he even considered to bring her with him and fear of what it would mean if she had to leave her home.

 

“ I am the queen, they will look for me. I cannot travel with you on my own. That would be unwise and…” she closed her eyes.

 

“ Sansa this is your fight too. Do you wish to wait here, in the dark while someone else ride and take victory in your name?”

 

“ No. I want to be instrumental in the victory. If there is one.”

 

“ Come with me. Let me take you there. We will be back on the morrow and no one will notice.” he said.

He pulled the garment and gave it to her. She looked down on it with wrinkled nose.

 

“ What are those?”

 

“ Those are breeches and a tunic. I need you to wear them.”

The look of utter horror on her face was a sight he would take with him to the grave.

 

“ Are you mad? I am not wearing this...this thing.”

She looked down at the clothing as if they were venomous.

 

“ Aye! you cannot ride with me in your dress. you have to put this on or you will bruise your ankles and thighs.”

 

“ But it's just that it's so unflattering. The colouring on the fabric...and who did such poor sewing work?”

 

He bit his lip to conceal a smile. “ It does not have to be pretty, but useful. Can you wear them?”

Sansa's face fell. She stared at him wide-eyed a moment. She finally nodded and took them.

He turned around to give her some privacy, while she changed into the modest clothing.  
When he turned around his heart sank. Struck by the glaring change in the girl in front of him. Images of a red haired wildling flashed through his mind before he pushed them away.

Sansa's lips were quivering and she kept folding her hands as if she needed reassurance.  He was reminded then that without her titles and beautiful dresses, she was still a girl of ten and seven.

 

“ I know. I look ridiculous. But you said it needn't be pretty. So, stop staring like that.’

He wanted to tell her that there was no way for Sansa Stark to not be pretty but that would lead them to a place he needn't be right now.  
He took her hand and walked them out.

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Introducing Sansa to Rhaegal was not a small affair.

  
Sansa had screamed and ran away as soon as the dragon landed on the ground in a majestic tornado of wings and snow.  
He had to run after her and retrieve her from behind the tree where she hid.

 

“ You weren’t even afraid of him in the battlefield the other day ”

 

“ What? I was frightened senseless! But a queen must keep her composure in front of her subjects.”

Sansa let out another scream when Rhaegal slithered to her..

Her fear contrasting with the dragon’s curiosity and enthusiasm.

 _Rhaegal could feel his owner’s affection for this small creature and he wanted to be loved by the small creature too. Why wouldn't it touch Rhaegal's scales?_  
_It was the prettiest and gleamed like the trees when the sun caressed it. Mayhaps the small creature liked Drogon’s scales better like Rhaegal's mother did?_  
_How could it be when Rhaegal’s flames burned hard, as red as the small creature's fur._  
_He attempted another approach but she made that sound of fear again._

 

“ Slow down, boy. Lay down and let me Introduce you to her.” Jon patted the dragon’s neck.

 

“ Jon Targaryen, you are so going to be the death of me. If I die, I swear…”

 

“ Father's ghost will rise to haunt me. I know, I know.” He dismissed her  
He pulled her in his arms, circling them around her waist. Slowly, he walked them to the dragon. Sansa was shaking so hard Jon wanted to give up and leave without her.  
But he longed for Rhaegal to be a part of her, a part of his life here, unlike the way Ghost had failed to fit in his life in the south.

He pressed his lips against her ear as they walked to the dragon.

“ He likes you already.” he murmured.

 

“ How could you know?” Sansa snapped.

 

“Because I can feel it and he can feel it too.”

 

_He likes you because I like you, you maddening woman._

 

To say Sansa wasn't what he’d been expecting would have been a colossal understatement.

  
He grew up with her and what he knew of her did not fit with his thoughts of his ideal woman.  
But Sansa was enchanting. Even knowing what he knew of her somber involvement with Petyr Baelish ( that she conveniently avoided to tell him about) he had been so thoroughly charmed by her that he almost hoped he wouldn't find out what else she was hiding from him.

He knew that a great deal of her proximity to him was due to the simple fact that he was a prince, in possession of an army that could crush hers.  
He also knew that she wanted to use him. He was not blind to her subterfuges. But there were moments where she seemed so genuine in her possessiveness and need to keep him close, that it got him doubting his own resolutions.  
He meant to discover the truth about her before he committed to her. Play in her games and see how far she would go. But each day made it harder to keep his guards up while penetrating hers.

Reaching the tethered beast, he grasped Sansa around the waist and lifted her, settling her legs on each sides of the dragon’s tall neck.

“Oh! “ she breathed as he mounted behind her.

“ Close your eyes.” He whispered before his dragon took off.

Sansa's scream pierced the sky, melting against his laughters.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author Note)
> 
> I usually don't write AN and let the story speak for itself but I wanted to write something about Sansa's fashion journey in this chapter. 
> 
> It started in the middle part of the chapter after she played with Jon and Rickon. It's the game of her childhood, the one she was never a part of. Because her siblings were playing in the mud and she was just watching from afar. She finally became one with them and let out the wild in her. In this part she was wearing the Stark's clothing to show her status and for warmth.
> 
> After that part we saw Sansa wearing a dornish silk dress, pearls in her hear and sandals.  
> She clealry wanted to stand out and emulate the style of southern women. Not only did her fashion not show her status nor keep her warm ( she wore a dress that looks like water in the middle of winter and naturally she was freezing.), it failed to garner Jon's attention.  
> He spent the night entertaining a woman who looks more like a northerner than Sansa. 
> 
> The last change in Sansa's fashion was when she wore breeches. With this one, Sansa was stripped off of her main asset: her strong sense of feminity. So there were no more courtesy and composure in her, no more ladylike preocupations.  
> She expressed her feelings freely.


	4. Work Her Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter and I've never wrote so many words in english at once, in my entire life but JonSa made me do it, LOL!  
> Honestly the chapter's lenght is due to the fact that I wanted Jon and Sansa's time in Oldtown to fit into one chapter because a new journey will begin after this chapter. The story will finally be plot driven ( not characters driven anymore because it's a core to write).  
> So if you make it into the end of this very long chapter and want to stick around for the next chapter, I would appreciate that very much. 
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who reviewed and left kudos on this work, it means a lot to me.

* * *

 

 

 _Bad things happen when a Stark leave Winterfell_ and Jon believed those words until he took a Stark out of Winterfell.  
Their trip to Oldtown was marked by a serie of misfortunes. Upon their arrival to the Citadel they had to wait for hours for the Maesters to receive them; then they had to spend another hour to convince them that they needed their help in order to defeat the White Walkers.  
Getting his dragon to cooperate and land some of his flames to the cause was almost impossible. Ultimately, his own Targaryen blood did not match the formula. It was deemed impure and unfit. They would need to drain him dry to have enough blood to match the intensity of the formula. With a pure blood Targaryen, a simple drop of blood would have been enough to ignite the magic, they’d said. A comment that got Sansa wonderfully unnerved.  
Then, his friend Sam had to mention to Sansa how much he was helping him in his search for Arya and how he always thought Jon only had one sister because he never mentioned Sansa during their time at Castle Black. The look of resigned disappointment she gave him, made Jon wish he could send Sam flying out of the Citadel. And he almost did.  
By the end of the night, he was too frustrated and tired to care about White Walkers or Valyrian steel. He just wanted to go back home with Sansa.

“ So, what is it between you and the Queen?”

Jon felt his skin warming up. “ What do you mean?”

Sam smiled faintly and looked up at the red haired woman skimming through the storage of books about tapisseries wall and jewelries.

“ I noticed the way you carry yourselves around each other. Not like siblings and certainly not like cousins who are not married to each other.”

 

“ I do not know. This thing with her is sudden and unexpected. I cannot name it yet.”

 

“ When you were left with the High Maesters for a second session and they refused her presence in the room, she was devastated. “

 

His throat tightened. He’d heard her banging against the door and calling for him.

 

“ She threatened to unleash your dragon to burn down the Citadel. That's how they let her get to you.”

 

“ Aye! Sansa is stubborn.”

 

“ I am afraid that the High Maesters were not impressed by the wrath of a dragon but rather frightened by the fury of a woman in love.”

His head snapped back at Sam so fast, disbelief written all over his face.

 

“ Why would you…” he stuttered, looking back and forth between his friend and the red haired woman that haunted his dreams. “how could you know?”

 

“ I just know it. And you seem to be taken with her too.”

 

“ You are just speculating. Sansa is not easily swayed.”

 

“ Maybe.”he conceded. “ But what of your relationship with the Dragon Queen? I thought you were her lover?”

Jon’s eyes widened. “ Do not say it out loud.” he hushed his friend. Which garnered the attention of a startled Sansa. She stared back at them with furrowed brows. Sam and Jon matched each other's forced grin of reassurance.  
She smiled back and returned to her endeavours.

Jon turned back to Sam with a hard look.

 

“ I am guessing, she doesn't know about that?” he jested in a whisper.

 

“ I was Daenerys’s lover then I wasn't. As of now our relationship is complicated.”

 

“ But you are already seeking the flame of another woman.”

“ Seeking the flame...Oh Gods!” He rolled his eyes. “ I did not start a thing. I haven't even kissed the woman.”

 

“ For now.”

 

“ Take that back!”

 

“ Be careful, my friend. People in Westeros went to wars over less than leaving one Queen’s bed to another's.”

 

“ You think I don't know that?”

 

“ Then, what will you do when Queen Daenerys will learn about this or Queen Sansa, for the matter?”

 

“ Dany is greater than that. I’m not worth a war. She would never raise her army over a simple lover.”

 

“ But you are not just a simple man. You are her heir and the future of her House. I thought the two of you were seeking for a way to heal her infertility and create the next Targaryen’s dynasty? “

 

“ Oh Gods! It was all in the past! It did not work out. Our goals were different at the time and it's still the case.”

 

“ You weren't thinking about goals when you climbed into her bed every night for two years.”

“ Sam. ..” Jon growled, his hand instinctively reaching the pommel of Longclaw.

 

“ I was just jesting.” He rose his hands in surrender. “ But if you cannot defend your actions to me, your friend, how do you expect to explain it to Queen Sansa?”

 

“ I did not climb in Dany’s bed for two years.”

“ Well…”

 

“ And Sansa has her own pile of secrets and things that she would not wish to share. I do not think her the type to judge people over their past.”

“ But your past could be dangerous to her life and reign. “

 

“ we are ready to leave.” Sansa’s voice resonated next to them suddenly.  
Jon was thankful for that because he was about to throttle Sam for his fool words.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ There is something I need to tell you.” he said as soon as they left the Citadel. She gave him a quick glance but didn't say anything. She kept walking down the street.  
He stopped her and turned around so she would look him in the eyes when he would say the words.

 

“It's about my time in King's Landing. “

 

“ What of it?”

 

“ When I was there, I was...eh..the Queen and I..”

He didn't know why he couldn't find the right words suddenly. Surely she would refuse him after his confession. Was it even worth it to ruin everything for something that happened in the past?

 

“ What is it Jon? “

 

“ I was the queen’s lover.” he said urgently. “ But it happened only before I found out about my parentage. I haven't been with her for a year and half and I am not with her now.”

She said nothing for a moment or two. Her eyes flickering all over his face quizzically.  
The problem was that Jon could not read her expressions properly. She looked too calm.  
Maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she did not think of him as a man, one that she could be with, but as a cousin or even worst, a brother.  
Could he live with that? Be by her side and not have her the way he felt it and wanted it?  
He couldn't tell.

“ I already know about you and Daenerys Targaryen. I’ve heard about those songs of your love that was made in the flames and blood of dead lions.” she said with an airy voice then shook her head. “ But songs are eaten wrong.”

She started walking again then stopped. “ Jon?”  
Jon mind was blank for a while until an overwhelming sense of relief hit him. It drew warmth from his mind down to every single nerves ending In his body.  
She knew and she didn't care. She knew! She knew and she wasn't afraid of it.  
She knew all along.

He walked after her. “ But how?” he wanted to hold her, kiss her but he didn't dare try. She would reject such act in public.

“ You think I would welcome you in my House without knowing everything about you?”

 

“ Of course.” He laughed. “ Were you spying on me, mayhaps? You could have let me know that you were alive.”

 

“ I have my eyes everywhere, Jon. Even in the Dragon Queen’s bedchamber.” she said flatly.

Jon felt a tendril of nerve slither down his spine.

“ And if you wanted to know about what had happened to me you could have searched for me.” she insisted.

 

“ I...I don't know..from what I heard, Cersei Lannister had you assassinated over the murder of Joffrey Baratheon.”

 

“ There were rumours about Arya being dead too but still you tried to find her.”

 

“ There were unclear reasons behind that claim than your death over Kingslaying and honestly…” he didn't know what to say. It's true that he did not feel compelled to look for Sansa. Heck his thoughts of her over those years they spent apart were abysmal.  
When in reality Sansa was the one who was close but always out of reach.

 

“ We weren't close when we were young so you didn't feel responsible to look after me. Look for me.”

 

“ But I do now.” he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

 

“ Why?”

 

“ Why? I don't know how you want me to explain”

 

“ Why do you care for me now. What does it change? We are practically strangers now. No half siblings, no bound, nothing.”

 

“ Could you look me in the eyes and say that you think of me as a stranger?”

 

“ Jon…”

 

“ Do you feel nothing for me?”  
She shook her head and tried to free her hand but he grabbed her other wrist to keep her there. “ Tell me the truth.”

 

“ I don't think of you that way. You look so familiar and someone who looks so much like father cannot be a stranger to me. I’ve tried to keep my distance, sustain that invisible gape that was always there when we were kids. But then I would see you walk or smile at Rickon like father used to and my heart…” she closed her eyes.

“Your heart?”

 

“ I want to matter to you, like Robb, Arya, and even Bran mattered to you.”

 

Oh he felt his heart swell. There were a tightness in his throat. His entire life he’d longed for a place to belong, approval, and love in the most unselfish way that he knew he had no claim to. Here he could see it all over her eyes..  
She gave him tenderness, approval and love.  
But it brought him more pain than joy. He wanted this love from Rickon, not from her.  
He wanted her. All of her. But Sansa only wanted a brother. She wanted family.  
He wanted her to look at him as Jon Targaryen, not Jon Snow, her bastard half-brother.

She pushed her flush against his. Jon let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her.  
Sweet, sweet agony. He was mistaken, but maybe he could try to give it to her. Be a brother to her.

“ But we all know that things are different now.” She said against his chest.

“ Hum…?” he could not trust himself to speak. He was too heartbroken to speak while he had her so close.

“ Sometimes I am glad that mother’s hard feelings kept me away from you. Glad that I didn't share those moments with you and Arya”

 

“ That's such horrible things to say. Sansa why would…”

 

“ Because now I get to be with you on a different level. Because now you can see me like more than your silly half-sister with a head full of fantasies.”

 

“ I’ve never thought of you as a silly thing.”

 

“ I know you can see me now. And I want you to know that I see you too. When time will come, when there will be no threats anymore, I would like to try more than seeing you. Is it possible? “

 

“ Yes. I would like that a lot.” he replied grinning at her she smiled and blushed.

In the darkness a hand reached out for them, clawing at their clothes. An old woman, a beggar. “Spare a coin?” a voice crowed.

Jon stopped, plunged a hand into his cloak, and produced his purse. There was the rattle of coins as he tossed it to the old woman. “Here,” he said, “take it.”

“ All that money? “ Sansa asked after the woman crowed back into the dark.

 

“ I don't need it.” He pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. She giggled. “ Everything I need is here.”

“ And what I need is to go back to Winterfell.”

“ We cannot. Rhaegal is not here. He went hunting.” He whispered against the soft skin of her throat.

She shivered and caressed his back, digging her nails across the fabric covering it.

 

“ Well, call him back.”

 

“ It doesn't work that way. I can only feel him but not talk to him or hear him talk to me.”

Sansa pushed him off her slowly, as she registered his words.

 

“ What do you mean?”

 

“ The forging session took too much of his vital energy. He is exhausted but still trying to catch a prey other than humans, so he went far away from the city. He is not coming back anytime soon.”

 

Her hands flew to his shoulders and dislocated her body from his tight hold.

 

“ We have to go back to Winterfell now. You said we would be back in the morrow. If we leave now we can go back there in time.” she said slowly, a tinker of fear sneaking down her spine.

 

“ You heard me, I cannot do anything now even though I want to. What we should do is find a logis and stay the night until Rhaegal’s return.”

 

“ Of course you would say this. This is all a ploy.” she hissed through clenched teeth. Walking away from him, staggering through the crowd without a look back.

Jon stood there dumbfounded for a split seconds until he snapped out of his stupor. What did she just say? A ploy?

He went after her, caught her elbow and brought her to him away from the crowd.  
She shot him a look of pure anger.

 

“ Do not put your hands on me or corner me in this way.” she shouted.

“ Sansa I fail to understand why you are so angry about this. I told you that I cannot control our only means of transport. Until Rhaegal comes back we have to stay here.”

 

“ We have? You knew why I did not wish to leave Winterfell. I have my people to think of and my little brother is there alone. You promised me this business will be taken care of rapidly.”

 

“ That was the plan and it's still the case. What does a night going to change? Everyone in Winterfell is probably too drunk and satiated to care about which way their queen retired to.”

 

“ Do not make it sounds like I am being unreasonable. You know that you lured me here under false claims. I cannot spend the night away from Rickon or Uncle Brynden or Winterfell. It's not safe here.”

 

“ What are you talking about? Does it ever occur to you that I might be able to protect you?”

 

“ Protect me? I don't need your protection. I want a way back home. Bring me back home.”

 

“ There is no going home, Sansa. You cannot scream and rant as much as you want nothing is going to change this situation. Unless you want to take the road back to Winterfell which is going to take almost a month for you to go back there.”

 

Sansa shook her head as her eyes widened in a quiet realisation.

 

“ You planned it all along. Didn't you?” she darted an accusatory finger at him.

Jon was utterly perplexed. “ I beg you pardon?”

 

“ You planned this. You took me away from my throne so your soldiers can attack Winterfell behind my back.” she shouted with disgust.

Jon was too astonished to reply. How could she think such thing after everything they have shared since they met again?

 

“ Are you mad or are you just intentionally obtuse? “

 

“ I beg you pardon, how did you just address me?”

 

“ Do you think I need a senseless ploy to take Winterfell from you? I granted you the keep of your throne when I mercifully refused to fight you over it.”

 

“ What did you just say?” she panted, too shocked even to keep up with the argument.

Jon cooled off then. He could not play this verbal sparring game with her. For one, she was too  
experienced at it, and second that road would lead him to say things he did not mean. Things that would hurt their newly mended thrust in each other.

He Inhaled a sharp breath and cooled off his exasperation. He gave her a soft smile. She shot him with a lethal glance.

“ I am sorry. I should have thought it thoroughly when I brought you here. I swear this is not a ploy nor a way to take you away from your home for some dark motives. Rhaegal is just unable now.”

 

She shook her head. “ I cannot believe a word coming from your mouth after the things you've just said to me, Ser.”

Ser? Where they really back hiding behind étiquettes after the amazing time they just spent together?

 

“ Sansa…”

“ Do not pronounce my name you, traitor.” She shouted before walking past him and down the long street of merchants of stores again.

Jon let the sharp contact of her words sink in before he stumbled down after her. He was so over it.

He turned her around by the elbow and pulled her up against him. She let a short gasp of surprised upon noticing the savagery colouring his expressions.

 

“ How did you just call me?”

 

“ You heard it.” she replied after her fears subdued. But she could not ease the frantic beating of her own heart.

“ Me, a traitor?” he shouted at her, startling the people walking past them.  
“You call me a traitor when you are entangled with Lord Baelish, a man who betrayed our family and has reputation as bad as Cersei Lannister.”

Jon saw the word bite deep. For a long moment, she did not move.

“ How...How?” she stuttered in shock.

 

“ I’ve known about your betrothal to that man for a while now.”

 

“ Why would you bring it into this matter?” She asked, unable to keep back the acid of her hurt.

 

“Because you don't get to question my honour when you are involved in less than honorable affairs, Sansa. I know about the trial over Lisa Tully’s death. I know that he is the one who gave you to Ramsay Bolton under the heart tree.” Jon said.  
His time with Lady Tallhart has been helpful so far into helping him gather information about Sansa.

 

“ You know nothing about me. You weren't there with me. You cannot possibly know what this is all about.” she shouted, stomping down the street.

 

Jon followed her just right behind. “ I can easily recognise the fact that there must be no trustful bones in your body if you think you can involve yourself with the likes of Baelish.”

 

Her neck snapped back fast. “ Oh because serving the Targaryen House that killed half of our family and ruined the entire realm is somehow better?”

He wanted to tell her that at least he did not have to sell his body off to some man for power, then he realised that he did just that.  
His physical and emotional involvement with Daenerys Targaryen propulsated him into his new titles and ranks now. The dragon queen had no obligation to claim him after she found out about his parentage. She could have gotten rid of him if she so wished because he had a claim to the Iron Throne too. But when the truth about Lyanna and Rhaegar emerged from the mouth of Ser Varys, he was already sharing the queen’s bed. At the time he had no titles what's over. He was just her lover, which made it easy for her to elevate him as a dragon prince but it complicated the rest..  
Mayhaps his journey in the south those last three years had more in common with Sansa’s than he thought.

He snapped out of his own thoughts then. Yet he could not understand what Sansa was raging about. But going by the look in her icy blue eyes, those words must be the equivalent of poisoned arrows.  
Her face was flushed red. It started from the little cradle between her collarbones and sneaked up to her neck and face. He had a startling suspicion that her skin would be hot now under his touch, aflame by rage and shame.  
He snapped his gaze back at her eyes. He could not even remember why they were quarreling.

 

“...you are certainly misguided if you think you can talk down on me. You, Prince Targaryen must have a woman's sense of honour if you feel it adequate to use a lady’s betrothal against her. That was a low blow.”

 

Jon looked down at his feet to hide his smile.  
Sansa was always good with words even when she was a kid. How did he even think of winning an argument against her?

 

“ So, you have nothing to say?” she snapped, curiosity lowering her heated voice. “ Or am I deemed unworthy of an answer now?”

 

“ I am sorry.”

 

“ What?”

 

“ I am sorry I took you away from Rickon. I know this must be hard for you and I know that you have a schedule full of responsibilities. “

She blinked twice, tilting her head to the side as if she could not believe his words. Then, she sighed.

“Apologies acknowledged. “ she shrugged. “ What do we do now?” she asked.

Jon extended his hand at her. She stared down at it as if it was made of thorns.

“ I don't think I am in the right disposition to entertain any physical contact with you, after the things you just said to me.” she divulged then turned her face away.

“ Fine.” he spat. “ But stay close to me. I don't want to lose you in this pool of people.”

 

“I’m not a child, Prince Jon.” she snapped back at him but she got closer to him nonetheless.  
They marched down the long street for awhile in silence. Their shoulders brushing each others.

Jon stopped her in front of an Inn. They could spend the night here until Rhaegal’s return.  
He turned around and started walking towards the Inn. He stopped upon realising that Sansa was left on the spot and did not follow behind him.

“What’s wrong?” he sounded exasperated.

“This is not happening’,” she said flatly.  
“I’m sorry, but… This is not even possible….Have fun… Without me...”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sighed,

“ Jon I am not walking in that place…”

“ This place is an Inn where we will be spending the night until Rhaegal’s return.”

 

“ But it's a tavern.” she hissed almost desperately. “ There are dangerous drunk men in there. And whores, thieves, witches, snarks, and Grumkins.”

“ And it also offers lodging we could rent for the night.” He sighed. “ Come here.”

Sansa took few hesitant steps and stopped, still uncertain of what to do. The cacophony she could hear from the Inn’s bar was enough to unleash flashes of that day at King's Landing during the riot. Men, horribles men put their hands on her. If it was not for Sandor Clegane she would have been nothing but a corpse.

 

“ You can't nitpick where we get to spend the night.” Jon said, getting more and more frustrated with Sansa’s behavior.  
He could feel anger getting into him. among the things he did not miss from his old life, Sansa acting like a prissy bitch was atop of the list.  
He was about to tell her just that when he saw the look in her face. One of real dismay.

 

“ Sansa what is it?”

 

“ I do not know…”

 

“ You think I am going to let anyone touch you under my watch?”

She shook her head.

“ You have me and Longclaw to protect you.”

“ I cannot rely on your words Jon, considering that you are the sole reason of our misadventures and why we are in this predicament.”

Jon growled, frustration running hot under his blood. He extended his hand, grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him.  
She screamed, pommelled him, begged him to stop but he did not.

He pushed into the crowd until he pressed their bodies into the entry of the Inn. Sansa stopped her fumigation and stood still next to him.  
Eyes widening and hands shaking. Her fearful posture tugged at his heart but he refused to indulge her petulant simpering.

The clinks of goblets being clung together caught her attention first.  
Then, it was the group of ten men gathered around a table, yelling, and gambling.  
On her right she saw a girl that looked even younger than her on the lap of a fat sweaty man.  
The girl laughters were only matched by the man’s high display of his knowledge of every single curse to exist, while his hand was lost under the girl's skirt.  
Jon pushed her further in the bar when a quarrel exploded between four men on her left.  
The act of violence was only flooded under the loud savage beats of drums coming from a place she could not identify. Sansa watched in horror, drunk, and disgustingly overfed men throwing themselves behind the female dancers. Hands and face plastered with food oils.

 

“ Thank you, Ser.” Jon said, snapping her attention back to him.  
He led her to the stairs.

  
They took the stairs until they reached the fourth floors of the lodge where the noise from downstairs subdued.  
The man opened a door on the furthest back of the corridor and offered them a small room, before turning around to leave.

 

“ Wait...where is my room?”

Jon rolled his eyes and walked in the room.

“ We have to share this one because I have to keep my eyes on you.”

 

She sighed. “ are you going to sleep on the floor while a take the bed then?”

 

“ I am not your manservant, Sansa. This bed is big enough for two. I will take one side and you the other.” he said, kicking his boots off his feet.

 

“ I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you.” she snapped with a high pitched irritated voice. “ Are you mad? Call the man back and take another room for yourself.”

 

“ I'm sorry, Lady Sansa, but you will do as I say.” he said while a dark grin coloured his face.

Sansa felt something in her snapping as she screamed. “ Oh, you steaming heap of crocodile dung! Don't stare me down in such fashion. You can't give me orders.” she shouted and choked back a her. Suddenly, hand moved up quickly to cover the orifice from which emerged such filthy words.  
It was the first time in her life that she’d cursed out loud. And she did it in front of a Prince, of all people.

The shock on Jon’s face mirrored hers but it moved as quickly to be replaced by something else-rage.  
He stood up and stepped away from the bed.Jon marched towards her.

  
Suddenly, it felt like she had been doused with cold water. She had antagonized this enraged man, and suddenly she couldn’t even remember why.  
She turned around and ran. She nearly got to the stairs, too, but Jon caught her arm and hoisted her body over his shoulders and carried her kicking and screaming back to the room.  
Even from the Inn Bar downstairs, they could hear Sansa miserably protesting all the way to their bedroom. Her voice echoed sharply around the corridor. “This is ridiculous!” she cried. “You can’t punish me just because of what I said! I’m not a kid! I’m the Queen In The North. I’m an adult. Jon! Jon!”.

After that, the voice became much more muffled as Jon had brought her into the room and shut the door behind him.

“You can’t bully me like this! Put me down! You’re hurting me! You are supposed to protect me! Jon! Joon! Ohhh! Jon!”

He dropped her body on the bed with great force which made Sansa’s bones tremble.

“Let’s be rational here,” Sansa suggested as soon as she recovered from the fall. She didn’t know what he planned to do with her but the dark look in his face was still there. She didn’t like where this was going. “I think this is merely a misunderstanding. Nothing that we cannot resolve with words…” She peered up at his beautiful face, now torn by anger. And swallowed hard.  
“kind words...”

Jon reached for her. She screamed, bracing herself for the hit but it did not come.  
Instead, he tugged at her legs, freeing her feet from her boots.

Sansa’s relief did not last knowing that the dark gleam was still deep in Jon’s eyes.

“The only misunderstanding we’ve had is that you thought you could do and say whatever it is you want to, and that I would let you.” Jon said slowly. Each words dropping like threats.

“ Jon, let's not exchange cross words. Can you do that? ” she said with a small smile, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Then, she saw his face and her stomach sank down. She felt the familiar buttery flutter of a pulse deep in her womanhood. She’d felt it that first time when he bent the knee. She could not understand what triggered the sensation now.  
She crossed her legs, without thinking, retaining the wetness in there.

He was pissed. Full-on angry, his face dark and his eyes a surreal gray storm.  
He sat on the edge of the bed without a word. Sansa was so quiet she heard the bedsprings groan with the sudden weight.

“ That was not how you were raised Sansa.”

“ Jon…”

 

“That's not how a well-mannered lady should act. Or one ruling a kingdom.”

The words hovered between them for awhile and Sansa could swear that she’d heard her father's voice in Jon’s chastising of her.

“Come over here, lady Sansa,” he said. His voice so soft but full of potential discipline. And worse, disappointment.

“I'm sorry”

“Take off the breeches. You can leave your smallclothes on. Do as you are told.” He patted his lap and Sansa felt the sinister slide of a tendril of fluid slip from her cunny.  
She moaned, fear, and craving all mixed together.

she’d never thought that Jon would ever see this much of her, all of her worst parts. The parts she’d learned to keep under cover since childhood.  
She took down her breeches and walked to him.  
Her face burned with blush and she kept shifting on her toes. Gods, she wanted to cross her legs to quell the beating pulse in her wet entrance. But she didn't, because deep down she didnt know how to tamp it down. She’d never been so aware of that part of her since now. It was the only thing she could feel now.  
She really hoped that this was a coupling thing; that his next move was just to insert his fingers in there to soothe away the aching beat.

 

“How many do you think you should get for being so rude and spitting those crudities in my face?”

“ How many... what…?” She flushed red as her eyes widened.

_How many? Mayhaps he was asking her how many times they could do it. How could she know such thing? Wasn't it up to the man to take the lady as many time as he wished?_

“How many spanks do you think, Sansa?”

Flabbergasted, she opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it, closed it.  
It wasn't a coupling thing after all. He wanted to punish her. And Gods help her, the prospect did nothing but increase the beating rate of her core.

“I don't...um, four?”

“Oh, four? You think four will cover that atrocious behavior?”

 

He pulled her over his lap and smoothed his hands over her buttocks. She shivered and arched into the touch instinctively.

“Fine. Six then?”

“That would only cover the fact that you made me run after you,” he said. “ Sixteen”

“Sixteen! But that would kill me...”  
In the next moment, he lit into her backside with the palm of his hand with a fierceness that the crack of the blow hit her ears before she felt the blood rising in her skin. Sansa jumped, letting out a howl.

Nine, ten, eleven. He had gone from scolding to crooning as her body shook with his blows.  
She could feel tears burning her eyes up, a small sound escaped her throat, half grunt, half moan, but she didn't protest.  
He was setting her bottom on fire! And there was nothing dignified about the process of getting wet from it, and having her bottom exposed like a naughty kid...but his words made her feel good, somehow.

  
“It’s over, Sansa. Sixteen” he whispered.

She was surprised when remorse actually hit after he let go of her. A moment of reflection when she realized she deserved punishment.  
What was she thinking? Arguing with him in the street where anyone could see, losing her composure that was so unlike her...so unladylike. So, why did she do it?  
Because she _wanted_ to disobey Jon. She liked the sensation she got when she stirred him and got him to react, that fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. She desired to be put-in-line by him. She wanted this on some strange level.  
The only issue was that she never thought he would use a childlike chastisement that would reduce her to tears to put her in line.

 

 

 

Sansa was still sobbing next to him, making ‘boo hoo hoo’ noises that were actually quite heartbreaking. Tears running down her cheeks and her sniffling ringing through the room.  
He tried to look at her but his mind was still heavy with guilt. He turned around, keeping his back to her.

He did not know why he did that. He hated inflicting pain to people, himself being exposed to pain too many times in the past. Whether it was emotional or physical. Yet here he was with a woman that he fancied, listening to her crying after he’d hit her.  
His reactions to Sansa’s words were unreal. He’d known women who use slurs and cursing as much as they breath. Heck, Ygritte mouth was so rotten that the woman insulted him more than she showed him affection. But he felt compelled to correct Sansa for expressing herself too much.  
To think that he’d hurt her in that way even after knowing what she’d been through with Ramsay Bolton made him sick.  
What was the difference now between him and that monster? Not only did he hit her to punish her, he took pleasure from it. He could feel himself growing hard while she whimpered and cried on his lap. He saw how aroused she was as well. That was the most confusing part of it all, because she clearly enjoyed it.  
Maybe they were both just hauntingly perverted.

  
He shifted on his left to look at her. she was still sniffing and her eyes were red with unshed tears but the look in her eyes was different. Like a blue mixture of remorse and silent longing.  
He hesitated for a moment or two before he offered his hand to her.  
She sighed loudly and moved closer to him.  
She inserted herself in his arms and buried her head in the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her.

“ I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what got to me. I debased you. I’m sorry”  
She only snuggled closer to him, painfully closer, he could feel every lines of her body.

She didn’t reply. She was definitely feeling quite well-chastised, but she didn’t know whether to be angry about being disciplined or not. She was mostly glad it was over, and to have her head rest up against Jon’s nice, warm, comfortable chest.  
She felt like a well-watched over child and felt like she would fall asleep within moments.

“ Sansa, I hate quarreling with you.” He insisted

 

Her eyes fluttered open. “ Me too.”

“ Good!” he murmured against her hair.

“ This is the first time since I took back Winterfell that I'm away from Rickon.”

 

“ He is safe.” he reassured her.

“ I know. He is with Uncle Brynden and I'm We are both safe.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jon woke up with a start. A prickling down his spine made him open his eyes.  
The last thing he remembered was laying in the bed with Sansa. Yet now all he could feel was a burning pain on his neck and back.  
There were noises around him. Loud steps walking closer to him.

 

“ I can’t find it.” said an unknown voice.

“ Wake him up and make him speak.”

A figure rose from the ground. Straight for him. The impact knocked him sideways before the pain exploded through his jaw. He staggered and fell heavily on his wounded back. The agony in his neck and back doubled.  
Before he could mentally note the damage and the source of the pain, his head was thrown backward with great force. The stirring in the muscle of his neck protested with sharp shot of pain. He groaned but opened his eyes.  
A man’s face came through the blurry veil of his vision. His rotten and damaged teeth smiling at him.

 

“ Where is it?”

 

Jon’s mind alerted tried to look around. Sansa! Sansa He could not see her nor hear her. That was when he heard a muffled cry on his left.

 

“ Where is Sansa?”

“ Jon.” she cried. The man moved his head to the left where another man was holding a sword against Sansa's neck.  
His eyes widened in fear for her. She was wearing nothing but her tunic she slept in, and her body was exposed to the eyes of those undeserving men.

He tried to get to her but another blow sent him back on his knees. Sansa scream of surprise turned into a little groan of pain. They were hurting her too.

 

“ Let her in.” said the man holding Sansa.

Jon watched as the door of the bedroom opened to an old woman, a beggar.  
His eyes snapped back to Sansa but hers were widening with recognition. He could not understand what was happening but he could feel fear growing deep in him.  
He tried to mentally register How many they were.  
Four in the room. One holding him and the other holding Sansa. One next to the door and the other next to the bed.  
He could easily take down the one holding his head and mayhaps take the one next to the bed by surprise if he were fast enough. But the one holding Sansa was too far from him and too close to the Queen with a sword against her throat. His abrupt attack could compel him to hurt Sansa for retaliation or by reflex.

 

“Are you sure these two are the ones who gave you the money?”

 

The old woman nodded under the hood of her coat. “ This lad yere threw a purse full of golden dragons at me.” she crowed. “ I followed them yere last night. It has to be him.” her words with a long fits of loud coughing.

Realisation hit Jon like a piercing knife. He gave this beggar his money out of generosity yet she brought this men here for more. He gave everything he had.

 

“Give us another purse of golden dragons or we will kill her.” the one next to the bed growled. “ Or you.”

“ I don't have the money anymore. I gave her everything.”

The old woman took a step back holding her small body. “ He has more money. Give them coins.’ she croaked.

“ You heard her. Give us the money or your woman will die.”

 

“ I don't have…” the blow hit before he could finish his sentence. It knocked him backward. Jon tried his best to conceal his reflexes of defense.  
Don't fight back. Don't fight them. Sansa's life depend on it.

Jon spat, tasting the copper warmth of blood.

“ Under...under the mattress. There...is a sword in there. It is precious and cost as much as the purse I gave to the witch.” His head moved up and he winced in pain. It was a burning pain coming from under his muscle and flesh. At least it meant that nothing was broken. “ Take it and let us be.”

The man holding Sansa, the ringleader, ordered the man next to the bed to verify Jon’s claims.  
He pulled the sword from under the bed and hissed appreciatively.

The man’s holding Sansa smiled widely.

“ It looks like a Valyrian steel. I’ve never seen one up close but I know how it looks like.” he looked back at Jon then let go of Sansa.  
She let a little whimper of relief and fell on her knees. Jon felt his heart sank with her. He tried to communicate with her silently. He needed to know that she was alright.

“ It's not heavy at all. It is a Valyrian steel indeed.” he laughed. “ Who are you? First the golden dragon and now a  sword made of Valyrian steel?”

 

Sansa rose on her feet suddenly. “ Jon, no! Don't let them take Longclaw.” she protested, instinctively reaching for the man holding the sword.

“ SANSA! NO! “ Jon screamed.

Sansa nearly snatched Longclaw away from the man’s grip but his companion next to the door was faster. Faster than Jon, faster than Sansa.  
He countered Sansa’s desperate twirl with a block and head attack that landed the flat of his sword against Sansa's cheekbone. The slap of the blade was like the crack of ice on a frozen river. Sansa’s body shook and trembled down.

  
Jon could not believe the loud animalistic growl that escaped him.  
He watched with widened eyes as she moved her trembling hand up to her cheek just in time when the smooth skin there was forced apart by the strength of the blow. Blood spurted out.  
She touched her skin and brought her hand down, shaking, watching her blood soaked fingers.

“ Take the sword and leave!” Jon growled again.

The men looked at each other with fear before storming out of the door.

“ Sansa” she snapped out of her stupor and trotted to him.

“ Jon. Jon are you alright? Your back...is it broken?” she let out a small sob. “ They did hit you with the small table on the back, Jon.”

 

“ Sansa. Sansa.” he kept repeating. He wanted to ask her if she was alright. He wanted to know if they tried to dishonor her.  
He was too distracted by the sudden roar that rose within him. In the next breath anger took over his blood. It was fury and overwhelming. But it was not his.

“ Sansa. We need to leave this place.”

 

“ Jon let me, let me tend to your back.” she said crying a little. “ Let me see if it is alright.”

 

“ No. You don't understand. Rhaegal is back and he is…” he screamed when he felt her hand against the open skin above his left eye.

“ It's good. We can go back home now. For now… we need...”

 

“ Let's get out of here or Rhaegal would destroy everything to get to me. You could die. “

Her eyes widened, staring into him and he could see her quick political mind forging into the matter.

* * *

 

 

Sansa only got the time to put on her breeches before she had to walk Jon out of the Inn. The street was as  busy as it was the night before.  
Sansa could see children playing in the same place where Rhaegal was coming into. Coming for Jon.  
His wings were too big and devastating. His body too colossal for such small space.

  
Jon was right, there were going to die. The dragon would crush everything within reach.  
Sansa looked up in the sky at the dark stain dangling in the air. It kept growing big and closer, hiding the sun behind its burning shape.

 

“ Jon, you need to stop him. He cannot get closer nor land here.”

 

“ I cannot.” He croaked, peering up to the dark shape flying their way. “I don't control his mind. I can only feel him.”

 

“ Jon look at me.” She held her gaze unto his. “ Rhaegal is yours. He is your dragon. Remember? He found you and held you until you found warmth.”

“ Sansa…”

 

“I need you to reach him. Look into him, find him. Tell him to stop and go away. Or we will all die here.”

 

“ He won't listen to me. He is so angry, it's poisoning my blood.”

 

“ You can do it. Call him to you. Do it.”

 

Above them, his Dragon was getting closer with each swing of wings and he felt something shift through his being, like a whisper at the edge of his senses. Something important.

Sansa tightened her hold on him and kept chanting for him ‘to do it’ .  
He tried to focus on it but he sensed a wall of wild energy at the same time, a rushing, shrieking force that was coming his way.

Wrath. Retaliation. Revenge. Bloodlust.

He could not control nor push it away. He snapped out of the spiritual grip and opened his eyes.

“ I cannot do it Sansa.”

 

“ Please...do it”

He closed his eyes, channeling back his first memories with good?” whisperedemptiness. Themeet purple their bond.  
Their frightening encounter in the cave when he opened his eyes for the first time. Their first ride.  
His time with Daenerys. Power. Desire. Love. Acclaims more of it.

 

Let me in. Please, let me in.

He took a deep breath and eased into the unnerving sensation of mind-sight. The sky above him blurred into surging silver as his focus moved beyond the earthly plane, into the pulsing waves. As soon as he found a way in, a crushing pressure punched through his bond with Rhaegal and loosened his grip on the memories. He staggered across emptiness and seemed to fall away from himself. His body below screamed, rearing to meet the boiling wave of anger.

Death was so near. He could feel it. Death by fire. Daenerys always said what a blessing it would be.

“ Are you back for her.” He a little voice in empty.  
“ I will keep you warm.” said another.

  
The pulse in his ears seemed to beat out a message: ‘ do it, do it’ it screamed to him.  
It was Sansa. He could feel her and breathe her in. Her voice took him away with his next breath. He focused his mind-sight and plunged back into the emptiness.  
The crashing, rolling chaos was gone; the emptiness plane became a smooth ebb and flow of jewel colors. The green Dragon looked calmly at him, his attention brushing across Jon’s spirit.

  
Curled over him was the real dragon. Jon could see him. See his mind.  
The shift of the heavy muscles. The delicate pattern of scalloped green scales. Rhaegal was in him and all over him. They were one.  
The dragon ducked his head, bringing his eyes closer, the ancient gaze pulling Jon into light and dark, stars, and moon, fire, and blood. Rhaegal was birth and death. Rhaegal was his Dragon. Jon belonged to Rhaegal.  
Rhaegal pushed Jon deeper into his mind. That place was full of moonlights and tenderness.  
He pulled back. Rhaegal wanted him to see her.  
Rhaegal was a female dragon. There were no male energy in her and Jon never saw it.

 

“Jon!” A voice, distant, and alarmed.

He tried to pull out of Rhaegal’s mind but she held him in. There were something else he needed to see.

 

“ Jon? Jon come back.” the voice screamed again.

  
Rhaegal pulled him in deeper within her moon energy. There were nothing but a mirror.  
The reflection in front him was filled with a landscape of rippling purple and silver. For a moment it surged closer, pushing up against a dark resistance.

  
Jon caught a soft lilt with no form and then it faded away like the end of a sigh. He spread his fingers across the hard velvety surface with a silent plea to let him see again.  
Behind the glass the shape called for him. Jon opened his eyes to eyes. It orbs.  
A crackling energy poured out of his skin as he took a step back, feeling emptied by shock at the sight. He’d never laid his eyes on this face before, but he knew it with a disarming certainty. The light in his silver hair. His regal posture. The softness of his facial traits. And those sorrowing purple eyes were the piercing shriek that coursed through his body, searching for his core. There was nowhere to hide from those eyes. It stripped his soul bare. It wanted Jon to know that it was in him. Rhaegal carried this will into her the same way Jon carried it into his blood. It was made of pain and sorrow.

 

“ Jon!”

  
The crashing sorrow kept raking at his hold on his body and his spirit. He was spinning, the bonds of mind and body stretched and splitting. He had to get out or he would be destroyed.  
But he did not know the way out.

“Jon! Are you all right?”

  
It was Sansa’s voice, an anchor from the physical sphere. Jon grabbed at it and wrenched himself free of the roaring in his head. His world snapped back into a maelström of colours. He doubled over, letting go of the grief as her voice pulled him out.

 

* * *

 

Sansa watched as the dragon above them twirled around and changed its destination.  
The roaring screams of the people around them ending slowly as the beast flew away.  
The whiteness disappeared from Jon’s eyes. But he was still not responding to her. Tears kept spinning out of his eyes and Sansa could feel her muscles burning. Holding him up and still while he was in that state was no easy task.

 

“ Let's go to her.” He said suddenly with a voice that sounded so distant.

 

“ Her?” She asked as he starred pulling her threw the crowd as if the pain in his back was miraculously cured.

 

“ Jon? What is going on?”  
He did not reply just trailed her behind him.

 

They reached a small hill after long moments of walk. Sansa was soaked in sweat and her body was crying for a moment of rest but Jon was still walking.

 

“ Jon please. We have to stop.”  
Great was her surprise and relief when he stopped his relentless walk. He turned around as if he were seeking for something.

 

“ Stay back! Don't get close to me, no matter what.” he barked at her then started climbing the hill.  
The pain of rejection and humiliation hit her before she could understand his words.  
She rose to her feet anyway and started walking behind him.

 

“ You can’t get rid of me now. Not after everything we’ve been through.” she shouted to his back.  
Sansa stopped still upon reaching the top of the hill. Rhaegal was facing Jon, his head crooked to the side.

 

“ Stay back. Do not attempt anything stupid, Sansa.” Jon said without looking at her.

His words crushed her heart again. She could not understand the reason behind his venomous words to her.  
Sansa pushed the tears back and was about to protest again when she saw the dragon’s mouth open wide.

She screamed instinctively and closed her eyes.  
And wished she never had to open them again. Jon’s body was silhouetted against the flames. Heat bathed his skin, casting him into shimmering red light. He moved closer and got swallowed in the flames as Sansa’s heart broke at the horror. Her screams only flooded under the dragon’s roaring flames down upon her beloved.  
She flinched under the assault of blinding light and the writhing heat that leaped from the orange and red flames around the dragon.  
She tried to see through the flames but Jon was gone, incinerated into a glowing spiral of ash and dust, their love severed into searing loss.

Sansa stared at the dragon’s flames blankly, then was gripped by sudden intense grief, crumpled down on the ground.

  
“This cannot be. This cannot be….” she repeated it like a mantra, closing her eyes tight and pressing her brow against the granite. She could block out everything but the darkness and the cool stone beneath her skin and the heat emanating from the beast. It was overwhelming and murderous.  
No, I could not bear it. I lost him too.

She’d been on the ground for hours with no wish to stand up. Even when there were no more tears to cry, the pain refused to go away.  
Sansa did not think it was possible to hurt that much and not die from it.

She did not hear it. She only felt the heat next to her. Even though she knew she had to stand up and run away, she did nothing.  
The heat brushed against her hair, petting it then down her dirtied cheeks.

“ Sansa…”

she opened her eyes then. The heat brushed against her shoulder and grabbed her.

“ Sweet girl.”

She heard his voice but she was too afraid to look. She’d heard father's voice too that night after Joffrey had him beheaded. It was all in her mind, nothing else.

She stood still, crying a little. He picked her up.

“ Don't cry for me. I'm not worth a single tear from you.” His velvety voice ringed in her ears and felt too close, too real.

Still, she refused to look at him and believe in.

  
He lifted her to him, his mouth kissing her neck, her face, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and she responded with passionate intensity, her closed eyes spilling tears. They moved in a frenzy, his hands everywhere, handling her roughly, trying to cram years of touching into moments. He held into her hair, her clothes and she tried to clung into his naked form.  
She was clutching his back and moaning continuously against his mouth, the sound rising to little whimpers as he squeezed her flesh, a sound so exciting he squeezed her harder to hear it again. He pulled her legs around his waist, she trembled and splayed against him.  
For a moment Sansa forgot her grief, her fear of the Others, her fear for Rickon’s life. She forgot her weaknesses and everything she'd lost in the in past, everything, obliterated under the sweet, sweet euphoria that brought peace into her.

_He is real. I did not lose him too._

 

* * *

 

 

**Daenerys**

 

She knew she could not trust witches after one one of them had killed her precious son.  
She knew it was wrong for a queen to base  her judgement on a piece of counsel from the flames of a witch. But she needed this now more than ever. After conquering almost the entire realm, she had to know in advance everything about her future.  
Also  this Red Witch was not pure evil. She brought her nephew back to life and none of her predictions were false.

 

Daenerys walked into the apartment she gave to the Melisandre and watched as she started her flames.

 

“ Your grace,” the woman sank into a low court bow, murmuring apologies. “ I was not expecting to see you so soon.”

 

“ Lady Melisandre, I accepted to bath in your flames as you promised it will bring my body back to what it was before the curse. But I do not feel any change in me.”

 

“ I'm afraid that you cannot feel anything physically. At least not in the way you expected. But you have fire in you. R’hllor chose you.”

 

Daenerys smiled with contentment.

This mad woman seemed to believed her and Jon to be gods. She knew the thought to be false and wrong. Men cannot be gods. But there were some aspects of that sacrilege that deeply attracted her. Sometimes she wished to believe into it. Now, that she got everything, she could not help but feel small under her colossal achievements.

What if she did not live long enough to enjoy her reign? What if she was hated like her father? Too much fears and uncertainties came with power. And powers? She held it all in her hand.

 

“ But I could always try to see in the flames if anything has changed in your future.” she offered, bowing down down a little.

Daenerys studied the woman for a while then nodded, giving her wrist to her.  
The sharp bite of the knife shook her body but the pain was soon replaced by pleasure as she watched her blood melting under the flames of R’hllor.

 Melisandre closed her eyes and chanted a long melody while the blood danced with the flame.  
She opened her eyes slowly, staring right into Daenerys.  
She felt uncomfortable under that long stare full of intentions, good, and bad. But certainly a lot of bad intentions. She had to force herself to stay still and not bust out of the room in fear.  
She hated magic. She hated what could not be explained and controlled. But she knew that she had magic in her. It was time to get used to that part of her.

 

“ The God Of Light  showed me a long future for you. A new dynasty will be born from you.”

Daenerys could not believe the intense mix of fear and relief that pounded through her in time to her heartbeat.  
The relief she could understand. She was no longer infertile and could have a child of her own now. Her name won't die with her.  
But fear? She could not place it.

“ Your House will reign on this realm for a very long time.” Melisandre insisted.

 

“ The dynasty…” she stuttered. She was too flabbergasted and moved to speak. She closed her eyes. “ This new dynasty will be born from Jon and I, isn't it?”

 

“ Yes.”

Daenerys let out a sharp breath of relief. Not that she ever doubted her bound to Jon. She always knew that they were meant for each other. Meant for greatness. Maybe he wasn't convinced of it now but she will show him. Prove it to him.

 

“ R’hllor showed me something else.”

 

Daenerys snapped her attention back to the red lady. She did not like that tone. Her instincts screamed to her to get away from that woman.

 

“ What?” she asked harshly, feeling a tendril of fear tightening in her her lower belly the very place where she carried her dead son.

“ _The Prince that was promised will have a daughter from two mothers._  
_Two queens for two kingdoms. A dragon with two heads. One made of Ice and Fire and one made of Ice and Water. Two pieces of the same coin. But only one piece will carry The promised Prince's will. The other piece will be his destruction_ “

 

“ What? What does it mean?”

 

“ I do not know yet. But this is only a small piece of your future which is tied to the Prince's future. Do not worry.”

 

“ How dare you, witch? You cannot tell me to not worry when your words are full of threats and lies. What is it about?”

 

“ Just a possibility among a million. Nothing is set in stone. The flames cannot freeze time. What you can do now could change what will happen.” Melisandre whispered with a voice that lured and seduced her senses.

 

“ Say the words to me again.” Daenerys spat after she’d regained her composure.

The red witch repeated each words again and again until she asked her to stop.  
The words rang no sudden chime of understanding through Daenerys. The puzzle did not click into place. But she could at least guess the two queens and two kingdoms.  
She walked out of the witch’s apartment with urgency. She found her Hand easily, waiting for her in the Throne Room.  
Her heart tightened upon seeing the wary look in his eyes. _He doesn't trust me anymore. I lost him. But why are you still here? Why don't you leave me?_

 

“ I need you to write to the crown Prince and summon him back to King's Landing. I won't have it another way. He need to come back with my men before the end of this moon.”

 

Tyrion’s brows furrowed and something flickered across his face. “ What of the conquest of The North? We got no definite words from the prince about his progression.”

Daenerys winced with annoyance. “ It is taking too much time. You were right. Maybe The North should come last. I got half of the Riverlands already and I have to rebuild King's Landing. Those lands full of snow can wait.” she sighed and took place on her cold throne.

Tyrion observed her in silence for a very a long time. Daenerys wondered why he was still standing there instead of complying to her request.

“ He is not coming back.” he whispered so low that Daenerys did not hear it at first.

“ Who?”

 

“Prince Jon, Your grace. He is not coming back to you. He said so before he left.”

Daenerys closed her eyes and let her body sink against her well earned throne. She braced herself for the pain of the treason and abandon but nothing came.  
She felt nothing. She gave that man everything. She accepted him and took him in when he was nothing but a bastard.  
There were always something wrong with him. No matter how many victories he took. No matter how many titles he got. He was tortured and unable to enjoy happiness.  
But she would not let his rejection crush her, no matter how far he ran to, she knew he would come back.

Theirs was a matter of duty and destiny. No one could run away from that.

 

“ Write to him still and make sure to tell him that if he doesn't hurry, I will go and bring him back home.” she smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Sansa/Jon**

 

After their moment on the hill, they went back to the Citadel to find Samwell Tarly. Jon’s friend brought them to his house wherein she met his lovely wife, Gilly, and their son, Little Sam.  
After bathing and putting on new clothes, Jon explained everything that befell them after they’d left the Citadel. He avoided to mention their moment on the hill.  
They’d had no moment together just the two of them. She tried to talk to him all day but he refused to linger close to her or feigned indifference when she tried to get them to leave their hosts earlier. She spent the entire day on edge, waiting for a sign from him and relieving their moment on the hill. His need had been overwhelming, but the memory of her own brought an even deeper heat to her face.  
Did he think her immodest and wanton? Septa Mordane had once told her that men were frightened by female passion. She could understand why; her response to him had terrified her.  
After supper, Sansa retired to take another bath and went to the small room she had to share with Jon for the night.  
Buried deep under the cotton covers, she was finally left alone with him. She watched him dry himself and put on smallclothes, after he bathed.  
She caught a glimpse of his naked back, a long, muscular triangle. She was suddenly so aware of him she could hardly bear it.  
Finally, he was standing over her. She found herself almost whimpering from eagerness.  
But he only unlocked the window next to the bed to let fresh air cast into the room.  
With her head resting on the pillows she kept casting covert glances at him as he went efficiently about his business. Opening the windows in the bedroom. It was as if he was intentionally taking all the time in the world before he had to get close to her.  So, she waited patiently and watched him.  
The muscles in his arms… those shoulders… the smell of him… she wanted to rub herself against that body, open herself…  
She felt her heart pounding and her insides swell, warm, and wet and needy. She looked down, her eyes widening with recognition.  
_Wanton! immodest and sick. This is why he doesn't want you._  
_Wanton! Wanton! Wanton!_ She could hear Septa Mordane in her mind screaming at her.

 

“ Sansa? I saw a raven leaving this afternoon…” she heard him asking.

Her head snapped back to her left where he was standing, his back to her, looking out the window down on the street.

“ I...I wrote to Uncle Brynden.” _And Petyr_. ” We will probably be back in Winterfell before the raven get to him but I wanted to get it off my chest. I want him to know why I left so suddenly.” her voice sounded so throaty and nervous.

“ That's good. We will leave tomorrow morning.” he said and turned around to look at her.

When their eyes met, it felt as if his lips were once again on hers. And she saw the echo of it in his eyes, too. 

“ Jon...what happened on the hill?...I meant what happened with Rhaegal? “

 

He signed and smiled faintly. “Um...it's hard to explain.”

“ Try.”

 

“ You know when a wolf find a prey. A big one, he kill it then feast on it. But when he eventually has to stop after being sated, he thinks of keeping it for another day. So, he urinate all over it to keep the other animals away from it.”

 

Sansa frowned, “ So, that was Rhaegal urinating on you?”

“ No.” he laughed. The sound of it sending warmth all over her body. “ What she did was like marking her territory. I'm her dragonrider and as long as I’m alive, no one else can mount her. I cannot mouth another dragon either.”

 

“ Oh!” she remembered the pain it brought to her. “ You scared me.” she murmured.

“ I know.”

_I thought I lost you._

“ So, Rhaegal is a female now?”

“ She was always a female. But I never noticed before.” He replied, scrapping his head and blushing a little..

_Of course you didn't. You are always so dense when it comes to feminine attention._

“ I never noticed because I never got in her head. Our connection was always superficial and one sided. She could get into me. I could feel her but nothing more. Now, I found a way in, I found the anchor.”

His eyes on her became heavy with hidden meanings.  
He was waiting for her to say something and she didn't know what to say.

 

“ That's good.” she finally said for a lack of better reactions.

 

“ Sansa, when I was in my dragon’s mind, I heard you in there.”

 

“ That's because I was talking to you and I was right next to you.” she smiled.

 

“ No. Not like that. I could feel you in there. I did not hear you from outside, from my body, but from my mind-sight. “

 

She couldn't understand and she was fairly frightened of all of this. The look in his eyes was intense as if he was trying to search for something into her.

“ I know nothing about dragons. And also I know little about direwolves. Rickon can do things with Shaggydog that I don't remember being able to do with Lady. So, if you think I did such thing to your dragon, I'm afraid that you are giving me too much credit.”

He said nothing for a long moment, disappointment colouring his face.

Sansa felt her mood darkening. Did she say something wrong?  
She was only good at sewing and fixing things. She had the cunning of Petyr for partaking in his schemes too many times and the reflexes of skilled a liar.  
She was no exceptional. Sure she had beauty and titles and a name that ranked her above many people but deep in her she knew she was not what Jon wanted her to be.  


“ Dragons are what you share with queen Daenerys. I think that something you should see with her. Ask her about it.” she suggested.

 

“ And would you let me do that?” he asked with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“ No!” she snapped quickly; then laughed at herself when she realised that she took his bait “ But you could write to her. Just not in person.”

He laughed a full belly laugh at that and walked back to her. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. His hand brushed her swollen cheek, she winced pushing her face onto the touch.

“ How is your cheek?”

“ Better now.”  
He nodded, pulling her from under the cover and sat her on his lap, her thighs straddling him.  
Sansa blushed a little, affected by his proximity and the way he handled her body as if it was the most natural thing to him.

“ It was a constant challenge to keep my hands away from you all day long.” he said his voice turning velvety and breathy.

She looked down at him, she could not believe her ears. Earlier he was so cold and distant with her she thought he didn't want her anymore.

 

“ I thought you would rebuke me if I tried to sneak a move with Sam and Gilly around.”

 

“ But we are alone now.” She said against his forehead. He smelled so good.

“Let's make good use of it” He grinned mischievously and put his mouth on hers. It was just as delicious as before, if not more so. It felt like every nerve in her body was reeling.  
She began kissing him back, deeply, she responded with everything she had.  
He began to fish his hand down between them to start unbuttoning her cotton nightrail. She looked down to see how he was doing, and as soon as her neck twitched, he tilted her head back up at him. “Just close your eyes and trust me” he whispered.

He kissed her again, longer, and harder as he accomplished his goal and slid her nightrail over her head.  
He didn't waste time and started exploring the damaged skin of her back. She shivered when she felt his fingers sliding down a deep cut scar.  
She opened her eyes then. And found him watching her and listening to her breathing.

“ So, Beautiful! “ Jon whispered.

It didn’t take him caressing her for very long before she was pressing her face into his face again. Slowly, delicately, she ventured her lips out and started to kiss his neck and his ears. Pinning his head backward so she could have greater access to his skin. He let out a guttural groan. She licked her lips. He tasted good.  
His fingers were absolutely wonderful as one traveled slowly down past her belly button and started to massage her inner thighs. She wanted so much more; she was panting for his touch. But he was only playing with her.

“Jon...Jon…” she panted. She refused to beg but he was making her crazy.  
She gasped in response when his mouth found her teat.

  
He spent a long, long time playing with her breasts, kissing, sucking, squeezing, pinching, pulling. Now, there were nerves leading from them to every part of her body and back again, tugging, interweaving, vibrating. Her mouth was open and she was breathing in moans. She lost control and moved against his hardness, and was rewarded by the feel of his hand against her heat.

  
He began carefully teasing and stretching her cunny lips, slowly, never staying in close nor inserting his fingers in her to satisfy her. She was moving uncontrollably now, writhing against his touch.  
Then, he stood up, still carrying her and kissed her deeply, making animalistic sounds in between kisses. At last he sat her on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs open.  
Jon dropped to his knees. He buried his face at the crossroads of her thighs and her throbbing cunny. Partedcunny. Parted her nether lips with his fingers and sat back to look at her. He studied the flush landscape of her core and smiled up at her.

“Pretty!.”

  
The way he studied her center drove her insane. For the most part, she had been with two men. Both cases happened under duress or unfortunate situations. And she was made to be ashamed and detest the experience.  
Those men never bothered to look at what they were fucking or abusing. Or figure out a way to include her in the experience. Her body was only a means to an end, a way to control her and at some extent her own bargaining ship.  
But with Jon, he was looking at her. There were nothing to gain or lose. This was primal, natural, no manipulation of minds but simple manoeuvrings of bodies and nerves. Then, how was she supposed to control him, own him?

 

“ Sansa? “

She whimpered and tried to pull back but he wouldn't let her.

“ Focus!” he murmured

She was about to protest again when he cut the breath off of her.  
He blew gently on her the quivering bud in her middle, holding her open. She had never felt more exposed and perfect and beautiful. He blew again and she gasped, grasping his hair tightly.  
He tickled the tip of his tongue to a sensitive place and her hand tugged his hair.

“Please...don't do this. Please.”

She tried to move her legs but he held her thighs. He held her at the angle he wanted as he did to her what he wanted.  
Jon pushed his mouth, so wet, so wanted to her cunny and licked her. He pushed one finger in her while he licked and worshipped her. She sobbed and begged and promised him everything but Winterfell. Or maybe she did.

Possessed by an unknown force she started pressing her mound harder against his face, thrusting her hips with no shame.

  
_Screw being shamed, Screw Septa Mordane, Screw Ramsay, Screw Petyr. My body is mine! Mine! Mine!_ And it felt too good to be devoured by him.

  
She grounded her cunny to his face until an intense spasm shook her and she screamed his name. Jon Snow; which made him growl and grip harder on her tender skin.

  
_And mother you were right about him. He is a naughty boy that will ruin me. But I will enjoy every moments of it._

  
She heard him sucking deep breaths of air before going back to fuck her with his tongue, lick her until she babbled. He sounded like he was about to explode. She wanted to kiss him but couldn't, her parted legs screamed with pain, but the agony only amped up the delight.  
She came undone, so hard little black spots jumped up in her vision. By the time he let go of her, she was so full of joy that tears leaked from her eyes. She pulled him by the hair, dropping her body on the mattress with him atop of her.

Her body was still shaking while she whispered over and over, “Please, please, please, take me, take me.” It was like a drum beat in her head.

 

He laughed . “Shush, Sansa, you will wake Little Sam.” He kissed her and his face was smeared with her wetness.

“ You are mine now. I marked my territory.” she said smiling brightly with pure joy.  
He gave her an intense look then kissed her hard, burying her head in the mattress.

“ Take me!” she breathed again.

He pulled back. “ No!”

 

“ Why? I know you want it too.”

 He moved in to kiss her but she moved moved her head, refusing him.  
He sighed. “ Not now when your are so vulnerable.”

  
She whined and he kissed her pouty lips. “When we will go back to Winterfell, when you will reunite with Rickon, and feel safe and in control.” he kissed her eyelids and forehead. “ If you still want me then, ask me then, I will take you so hard and deep, we will set Winterfell on fire from the frictions.” he grinned.

She gave him a blank stare that washed the grin off of his face. He wondered if he’d said something wrong. Then, he realised that he actually did. Sansa was Robb’s sister, Lady Catelyn’s daughter, she deserved better from him.

“ Erh...or we could go slow, I can be gently.” he suggested but she did not reply.  
“ Oh well! We could do nothing too, if that's what you want.” he mumbled blushing thoroughly. He ruined it, didn't he?

He watched and saw the look in her face change into something else. Something he recognised easily, it was her political look.  
He knew then that the girl was gone. He was holding the queen in his mind.

“ How many? “ she asked, her hand holding his jaw.

“ How many what? “

“ How many spanks for those indecent and obscene words you just uttered to your queen?”

He laughed so hard the bed trembled. “ Sixteen! “

“ Oh Sixteen? You think that would be enough to cover those improper suggestions?” she laughed with him.

  
She was adorable and innocent, he decided, even though she could be extremely immature, sometimes. Still, he guessed he was mature enough for the both of them.  
She let him hold her after they’d cleaned a bit and spent the next hours complaining about Septa Mordane for some unknown reasons. He laughed at her calling the old lady a bitch and kissed her. Even though he failed to protect her here, he promised to do better by her in the North. He needed her too much, more than she knew, she was his anchor, she was home.

 

* * *

 


	5. A Taste Of Glory

 

* * *

 

His face was grey and his shoulders hunched in exhaustion. His sparse hair was plastered to his head, and his tunic was ragged wet and burned on one side. There was blood on one arm, down his wrist and to his fingers, from a sword slash. He seemed unconcerned.

" Jon?" she rushed to him as soon as he entered the house.

" I'm glad you are here." he turned around and smiled at her. "We are leaving."

 

" What happened?"

 

" I went to retrieve Longclaw. We are ready to leave now."

" You did…" she stopped and looked down at the silverish weapon he held. "How?" she stuttered, fling dizzy by his frantic pacing.

" I went back to the street where that beggar met us, pushed by an intuition that she would be there. And she was." he laughed bitterly." Even after she got so much money she went back begging for more. I followed her back to her lair."

" What did you do?"

"I gave them the opportunity to leave unscathed if they return my sword but they refused to take it." he brushed his curls away from his sweaty face. " And Rhaegal was hungry." 

" Let me clean your wound before it gets infected."

" We don't have time for this. I already told Sam we were to leave in the morning. We should go now."

" You would ride in this state?"

he smiled. " I feel better than ever. He caressed his sword."

He was shaking and almost not standing in place. And the look on his face was one of lust and derision. Jon was drunk with something that she could not name.

" Sansa...you can't imagine what it feels like to ride Rhaegal when I'm in her mind. To feel her, be in her like that," he said in between ragged breathing.

She understood why he did not feel pain from his wound, he was still caught in the thrill of the fight. She walked to him and whipped the blood and sweat from his face.

" I'm going to clean your wound before we leave. Sit down," she said and pushed him into the couch.

He resisted. " We have to leave"

Sansa shot him with a glare that silenced him as she hurried to the kitchen for some water.  
When everything was done they bid their farewell to Sam's family and left.

***************

Sansa held him tight for hours and hours and closed her eyes for fear of the heights and what await her in Winterfell.  
She knew will forever remember those unfortunate days she spent Oldtown. Her only hope was that there were not in vain. Sam and the Maesters at the Citadel had to find a way to create Valyrian steel. It was their only hope.

Jon's dragon landed in the Godswoods in the least discreet way and Sansa was only hoping that it didn't attract the attention of the guards.  
Jon helped her down the mounture and she kissed him hard to thank him for everything he brought to her since he came back to her life.  
He made her feel safe. His hands and mouth made her body experience things she never contemplated before. And there were this growing feeling of hope inside her every time she looked into his familiar face. She was grateful. She wanted to say something about what was of their feelings now that everything has changed - but she did not know what to say. And Jon could not find the right words either, so he kissed her back in silent agreement to everything she felt but kept buried.

She hurried to her quarters. Trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. If her subjects could see her now, they would not recognise their queen. With her hair unkempt, wearing boys clothes with a face scarred, her skin rouged by the sun.  
Did she pass through the hall that way, under the various gazes of the people dining there? She did not think so. She had an impression still of some narrow, dark passage, unlit and unevenly floored. She felt the magical brush of cobwebs and smell cold stone, and only remember when her eyes landed on a room as snug and richly decorated. It was the Lords bedchamber.

She spent four hours under the care of her maidservants. They washed her hair thoroughly, massaged her body and put on her scarred wound a concoction of saffron, rosemary and lavender to quicken the healing process. 

At last she was forced to use artifice to hide the scar on her face.  
Powdered and perfumed, she adorned a deep blue velvet dress. Her hair caught up in a purple silk net scattered with tiny rubies.  
It was late at night when made her way to Rickon's bedchamber.  
Sansa noticed the little looks her guards gave each other every time their faces met hers.  
Trails of whispers followed every step she took as she passed some of the courtiers. They bowed their courtesies then engrossed themselves into some gossips and words she did not dwell into.  
Sansa did not know what took place in Winterfell during her absence but people seemed to react to her presence strongly...well more than before.

Sansa's heart filled with love as she watched her brother's peaceful face, his finger twirled around a downy lock of hair, while he drifted in his sleep. She shook her head. It was hard to believe he had grown into a small boy with the sturdy body of the father he would never know and the beautiful face of the mother that was taken away from him. She ached still with the loss.

Careful not to wake him, she tucked and smoothed the covers over him. It was painful to love Rickon so much. Always she was haunted by the fear of what would happen if a menace ever got its hands on him.  
She turned to her trusted guards, who kept vigil at her brother's door. They bowed silently under her gaze and she felt a bit reassured. For tonight, at least, he was safe.  
She kissed Rickon's velvet cheek and whispered words of love over him before walking to her study.  
Fatigued from her long day, she needed rest, her trembling legs were begging for it, but she could not afford it after she deserted her functions for two days.  
Her uncle was sitting at her desk when she entered, staring at a space somewhere between the table's edge and the doorway where she stood, fiddling a ring around one broad finger. Sansa waited for him to speak, noting with annoyance that his face was with dark circle trapping his eyes. She had warned him repeatedly to stop overcompensating and working so hard when his health had severely weakened after the battle for Riverrun. Then she felt realisation dawn: he had exhausted himself working to fill in the gap her absence burdened on him.  
She felt heat spurting from her pores while she closed the door behind.  
When he saw her, he snapped out of his reveries and took long steps toward her. His eyes widened with relief but he stopped in his track to bow at her courtly, a few inches from her. Sansa nodded her permission before he grabbed her shoulders lightly and pushed her body against his in an awkward embrace.

It would be dishonest to say they didn't love one another, yet neither of them would admit an emotion as messy as love to their well-ordered universe. They kept one another in balance, like finely calibrated scales.

Sansa pushed herself out of his embrace and walked to the desk.

" Where have you been, Sansa?"  
His tone was calm but the fact that he addressed her by her first name set her on edge.  
She was about to receive a lecture, from her Hand and from the uncle he was to her. She sighed. She took a seat and invited him to do the same.

Through shuddering breaths, she described the events of their expedition to Oldtown. She tried to avoid telling him about the thieves attack, that brief moment of desire with Jon or the issue with his dragon, but the rest of the story made no sense until she had confessed about the thieves and what happened with Jon and Rhaegal.  
At the end of her stumbling recital, he shook his head.

" Do you think it wise for the head of the Kingdom to leave with that man unprotected on a jaunt, at any time?" was his only response after her long tirade.

"How long have you known me, Uncle Brynden?"

"Since you were an infant, Majesty. But I only got to know you thoroughly when I became Hand of the Queen."

"Does this sound like something that I might do?"

"Escaping your castle in disguise with a Dragonrider Prince, on his dragon mounture to some unknown town?" he listed then shook his head when realisation dawned on him. " Yes, it does."

She grinned. And there it was, on her face, the look of a willful twelve-year-old child.  
She laughed. the girl she was that lost a piece of her when Lady died, the one that disappeared in the blood of her father's beheaded corpse was threatening to come back. She was excited by the prospect of what life could bring when she was with Jon. It had been a long time since her dreams were made of colours and beauty. There was no more death but a bevvy of flowers and hope.  
Jon constantly surprised her. He could be diverting in his way, always intent on finding some new game. Being with him was like reliving her own childhood. He was the gentle, honest and brave Prince she always wished when she was younger. Fate gave it to her, with a little tweak of irony in the way it was presented to her.  
The fool maiden was dreaming too far away when all she ever wanted was near all along.  
But the woman she now knew better. She did not need a prince, she needed a man who could love her and protect her. And Jon he happened to be both.

Sansa cleared her throat to bring herself back into the discussion. Uncle Brynden was complaining about how he had to lie to everyone about her health. He paid her servants and the guards to keep them from spreading those rumours about her departure with Jon.  
She listened and felt shame get a hold of her again. Her actions were definitely irresponsible.

" I'm sorry that my hasty actions put you in such discomforting place where you had to lie to cover for your queen. Although I did not leave to fulfil some juvenile fantasies. Jon and I were on a mission of Haute importance for our survival."

"I wish you would be more circumspect," he scolded her...

"My companion on that jaunt,' as you call it, once killed a white walker in a one-and-one combat, he climbed The Wall and succeeded. He led battles against wildlings and giants in a feat of strength I have never seen repeated anywhere. I have nothing to fear when I am with Jon Targaryen. It is like having the strongest man in Westeros guard me."

" Is that so? Then pray tell how he let something like this happen under his watch?" he pointed an accusatory finger at the freshly scarred wound she tried so hard to conceal.

Sansa blushed and covered it with her hand as if it would be enough to undo what had happened.

" This is an unfortunate…"

She tried to explain but her uncle cut her explanations short.

"It is undignified for the Queen In The North, The Lady paramount of The Trident to behave in such a way."

"Not if I am in disguise. No one saw me leaving with him."

" But some of the guards saw the dragon flying from within Winterfell the night you disappeared and your maidservants noticed your absence. Words get around."

"Talking is not the same as seeing. Talk adds to the mystery, only seeing destroys it. You have nothing to worry about."

He persisted. "I do not know what you hope to achieve."

She laid aside stood up, walked to the desk and turned to look at him. "I want to protect my kingdom from the White Walkers and the Iron Throne."

"How?"

"There will be no more war when Spring will come. If we survive this, I will ensure peace in these lands for a very long time" she said and returned to the letters displayed on the table. By the look of the pile, Sansa could already tell that she won't leave this room until the morrow.  
She was only gone for two days and it seemed like she was gone for two years.

Brynden was about to say more but kept his peace.

" Five ravens came yesterday and five more these morning."

" Are they bringer of doom?" she asked her heart beating loudly with fear. She was only gone for two days. She kept repeating in her mind.

Sansa watched the exhaustion in his face turn into certainty as he shook his head.  
" Out of the ten, six letters are from your bannermen. And as far as I know, nothing bad is happening in their lands yet. So you do not have to worry. One is from Edmure." he shifted and smiled a little. " I took the liberty to open that one. It seems my nephew is still struggling with the management of Riverrun. He wishes to marry again. Can you believe that?"

Sansa laughed but her waves of laughter did not help soothe the aching in her heart. " What about the other three?"

" We got a raven from Castle Black. One from King's Landing and another one from the Vale."

As she drew the letter from King's Landing, she watched the play of the candles light and shade on her hand, on the stiff parchment, and the seal hanging from the scarlet wax which bound the letter. Her fingers traced the Iron Islands sigil.  
It was a letter from Theon Greyjoy.

The ironborn took residence in King's Landing after Daenerys Targaryen's coronation. His sister Yara Greyjoy, the head of the Iron Islands had secured the independence of their lands from the Dragon Queen - thus he was to stay in the capital to ensure that the interest of the Iron Islands was respected.  
In other words, he was Yara's emissary- but in many ways, Theon was her emissary too.  
His loyalty to her being the last string of hope that glued the shattered pieces of his humanity together after their escape from Winterfell.  
The Ironborn that betrayed her family once was now working night and day to earn her forgiveness as her agent in the home of the Dragon Queen.  
Although Sansa had granted him her forgiveness a long time ago, Theon was still haunted by the ghost of Reek.

She broke the seal with trembling fingers. Theon had kept his silence so long since the last time he warned her about Jon and his legions. And his silences were generally held to precede the anonymous whisper of poison slipping into a glass. What, now, had he to say to her?

Her fingers traced the inky characters, pausing on a smudge where "B" looped over towards "I," worrying a stray blob of ink with the tip of a nail.  
The writing leaning forward, was no better, with letters missing and some words unfinished, as though his hand were racing to keep up with his thoughts.  
Not the neatest of writers, she thought, with a surge of tenderness which made her smile.  
But her smile faded away as soon as the letter took a significant meaning.  
Theon was in a rush to write to her because the situation he was reporting about was one of urgency.

" May I know what he wrote to you?" her uncle asked from behind her.

"He said…" What had he said? Sansa glanced at her shaking hands, where the parchment was lying. " He said that he wish I could survive what is to come."

Uncle Brynden frowned. "Really? He wrote that?"

" There have been talks about me, about the North, my title as The Lady Paramount of The Trident and the Vale's allegiance to me."

" It was only a matter of time before that greedy conqueror noticed what you had a gained behind her back while she was busy battling with the Lannisters." Uncle Brynden sighed.

" Daenerys Targaryen has summoned Jon to return to the Capital with her army."

" Mayhaps she'd heard about her Heir bending the knee to you?"

" I wish this could mean hostility between the Iron Throne and the North would cease since the head of the crown House bent the knee and recognised my claim as a monarch but I know better."

" She is biding her time and angling for another strategy." said her uncle, pacing pensively.

" We cannot afford a war against Daenerys and her dragons, along with her ironborn allies, the Dothraki, the Unsullied and the armies of House Tyrell and Dorne, with Ellaria Sand and Olenna Tyrell on her side. Can we?" she turned around to face her hand with desperation seeking for help, anything.

" Not now…" he trailed off, scratching his beard. " But in a few months perhaps. It's true that the North and the Riverlands have been weakened by wars and winter but if we prepare ourselves and gather our force with the Vale we could resist."

" Resist? Is that our only option?"

" We cannot know for sure without gathering our numbers and the weather alone won't allow these armies to invade us unscathed. "

" What about the Riverlands and The Vale? They will be the first in line if Daenerys and her allies decide to strike against me. Jon's march in here already cost me Harrenhal."

" We still have enough men to keep them from taking your territories, my Queen. Leave these war strategies to me. Rest assured for now. When the Dragon Queen will decide to make her first move, your friend, Theon will inform us." His tone was calming and patronising.

Blood rushed to her face. Three strides and she was back at the table. She grabbed the map that was laying on the table in a slither of parchment. "Do you know what all that is?" she demanded. "That is our numbers. We have one trained man to every twenty of Daenerys's!"

Sansa's mind raced back to Rhaegal and her devastating fire. She'd felt its hot bite from the distance. And Jon had told her that Daenerys had another dragon that was bigger and more ferocious than Rhaegal. There was no way to survive that alone.

"Then maybe the bringer of doom is you." she heard him say and that silenced her. 

  
Bryden's barb hit home and filled Sansa with anger so great she could not contain herself any longer. A small uneasiness pricked at her anger, thinking that the man was her uncle, but she ignored it.

She looked up at the unfair judgement "Everything I have done has been for the sake of the North I've dedicated my life in service of my Kingdom. I regained Riverrun when you and Uncle Edmure were too weak to do so. " She said hotly.

He shook his head vehemently " Yes you accomplished so much, yet you are jumping at shadows that do not exist. Your temper is flying now because you are afraid of things you do not understand."

Blood rushed to her face. "You think me afraid?"

It was not fear, it was desperation and exhaustion. Sansa was tired of fighting. Out of her days of reign, she had known no moment of peace.  
And now she was to be surrounded by enemies from the south and a bigger threat from beyond the north.  
If Daenerys and her army don't crush her, take her lands, kill her little brother and reserve a fate worse for her - the white walkers will walk North and freeze everything.  
No, she was not afraid. She was dying from exhaustion.

Her uncle's demeanour was a scarlet contrast to her own as he retained his calm and spoke without agitation. "Yes," he breathed. "You are afraid because you are out of your depth."

The words felt like a leap into the unknown.  
It silenced her and brought tears to her eyes.  
He stopped in front of her, his eyes alight with comfort. They stared at one another, locked in a moment that held anger and shared pain.

"I am not afraid of the Dragon Queen," she finally said. "I am exhausted. Tired of fighting for something that it is meant to be destroyed. I've been trying for years to keep this flame alive but I can't fight against the cold winds anymore. "

  
At those words tension dropped from her body, making her sway. She definitely needed to rest.

Brynden nodded, suddenly exhausted himself. "I am, too. I know so little about these White Walkers yet I have to guide you in your fight against them."

" It is too much." She flung her hand around her throat to hold the sobs that were rising from inside her.  
It could be liberating to cry her pain away, it would ease the tightness in her throat at least. But she was presenting herself to her uncle as his queen. She could not cry.

"Yet it is your burden, as mine is to guide you in your reign." he said while his hand reached for her wrist.

At his touch, all her confusion shifted. She gasped as his hand tightened, the same shift searing the fatigue from his eyes. He pulled her closer.  
"I may not know how to fight monsters but I can fight men. I won't let anything happen to you, my niece. We will win this war against the Targaryen queen," he said.

Were his words of his duty, or the familial energy that leapt between them? His eyes were making promises out of his personal trust in her. She needed more. She needed his political faith in her.  
Sansa turned her head, seeking refuge in thoughts of her mother.

  
_Oh, mother why did you raise me to be nothing but a lady? I should have been prepared for this._

"Take a seat" he pushed her on the chair and sat next to her.

She sat and watched him remove his hand from hers.

" What will we do?" she asked with a faint smile. Feeling at ease just for a little moment.

He returned her smile to emphasise his words.  
"War is a curious thing," he whispered. "It exercises both the body and the mind. You outwit your enemy and then you outfight him. It is almost art. That is something you are very good at."

" What do you mean?"

" You already blew your first attack against the Dragon Queen without her knowledge or yours for that matter."

" What is it?"

" You do not have enough men to defend your Kingdom on two fronts but you already stole your enemy's heir and you can worm a war in her house."

" Do you mean Jon could be my weapon against her?"

He nodded and gave her a knowing look of conspiracy. He looked so funny trying to entertain machinations and subterfuges. She laughed, though her laughter was harsh, humourless.

" I've already thought of it myself. I could get him to marry me to shape an alliance between our Houses but that would cost me the support of my bannermen."

" Why?"

" I can't marry a Targaryen. The North Remembers. They remember the first Targaryen that forced their king into submission with his conquest and they certainly remember the way Jon walked here with his army to steal the north from House Stark."

" Well, we could always negotiate it and make them see the wisdom in it."

Sansa shook her head. Hers with Jon was not meant to accomplish political miracles. It was just meant to be...just between the two of them. Unless Jon opposes the Dragon Queen, take the Iron Throne and let her legitimise him as a Stark.  
Which was almost impossible to craft in reality.

" It won't work now. Unless he proves his loyalty to the North. Even if I marry him now under other circumstances, the North will be affiliated to The Iron Throne and House Targaryen. It would equate to serving my kingdom on a wolf skin carpet to Daenerys Targaryen."

" I do not think The North would question their Queen's marriage to a young man who happens to be half Stark."

Sansa shook her head. No, they would. Most of them were expecting her to take a husband in the North. A man she could give her name to. She explained.

" Then how do you expect to take Littlefinger as husband with that mindset?"

Sansa stood up and walked back to the table, grasping Petyr's letter.

" Petyr has proved his loyalty to the North when he rode with me and The Knights of The Vale to take Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton. With his money, I rebuilt Winterfell and some of my bannermen lands. He's been running a positive campaign in the North since the moment he placed me on this throne. He can make his enemy admire him without much effort from him."

 

" That fucking sharpie…" he hissed between clenched teeth.

Sansa gave a sad smile. Petyr took decades to craft his plan and everyone was just playing into his hands like puppets. She had been dumbfounded too when that realisation hit her.

" Also he got my cousin Robin, under his care and tutelage. That's how he managed to ally the Vale to me. If I turn him down I would lose that much."

Her uncle walked behind and turned her around to face him. " You cannot let him control you in that fashion. You are the queen."

She gave him a perplexed look. " And what give you the impression that he is controlling me?" she snapped suddenly.  
The old man's eyes widened at the change in her. " I went willingly when I agreed to his terms."

" You cannot be serious, Sansa!" he insisted, shaking his head in disapproval. "That man fooled you. You agreed to his terms under duress."

Sansa rolled her eyes. Her uncle was intent on viewing her as the victim of Baelish when she was not one.

" For now, our alliance benefits me, so I'm keeping it. If and when I find an opportunity to outwit him, I will take it."

" And how do you expect to do it? Petyr Baelish is a dangerous man. He was born from lust and cunning. You cannot trust him."

" I'm the key to his biggest dream. Whereas he is merely a pawn in mine. Petyr placed me here because it was the finishing move of his game in a time when the Baratheon dynasty was crumbling down. Then the Targaryens returned which disrupted his plans but it helped mine."  
Her voice was cold and detached.

" You just said that you had no use for that Targaryen boy from a political approach."

 

" I do not. But anything that frustrates Petyr's plans is good for me."

Sansa started to read Petyr's letter with a frown.  
He wrote many words of love and admiration that could make the best poets blush with embarrassment. He described in the most gratifying and graphic ways how much he missed her body and making love to her.  
She felt her stomach turn rigid filled with black bile of disgust and anger.

Then there was a space between the lines, a pause to draw breath. Perhaps he had laid his writing aside at that point to do something else and had come back to it later.

The second part of his letter carried no sweet words or creative writing. He spoke of the reasons why he had been kept in the Vale for so long.  
There was an important trial over treason and attempt at the Warden of the Vale's life.  
A group of nobles from the Vale, all known as the Lords Declarants were suspected to be the masterminds of this affair. Said Lords were one of the remaining voices of position in the Vale against the Eyrie's support of the North and Sansa. They had pledged to their lives to undermine Baelish's hold on Robin.

Petyr had mentioned with irony how they tried to kill the young Arryn with a few drop of _Mauditius_.  
A remark that made Sansa shook her head.  
The _Mauditius_ was a poison so pernicious a mere drop of it could kill a man, assault him down in a matter of minutes.  
Rumour said only Petyr Baelish and Olenna Tyrell knew its secret: how to compound it and administer it.

Sansa knew that Petyr made fruitful affairs with Dornish merchants over the production and distribution of _Mauditius_. She was herself wearing a necklace carrying a few drops of the venomous substance.  
Therefore the conspiracy affair unnerving the Vale's administration and politics had Littlefinger's signature all over it like a bleeding wound.  
He'd explained to her one night when he offered her the necklace, how his business came to be. He always wore a ruby encrusted ring carrying said poison - because a man like Petyr fancied the idea of dying by his own hands, safe from another man's cruelty and brute force.  
He'd called it ‘a sweet death' like the kiss of a maiden in love.

Sansa could understand why Petyr would use this tactic to tarnish Robin's faith in his Lord nobles and secure his position next to the sickly child. Also, there were the prospect of taking the Lords lands and wealth if and when the trial ends with their demise - but for him to commit those words to paper, with a little disguise in the phrasing was surprising.  
He never included her in the sordid part of his schemes. This new facet of Petyr was probably in reaction to Jon's proximity to her.  
It was Baelish's way of reminding her that they were allies. He was offering honesty in exchange for loyalty.  
You give so little but you always want everything.

She scowled and crushed the parchment she had been labouring over in her fist. Petyr's last lines were about his upcoming visit to her.  
Sansa was torn between a perverse feeling of relief at the prospect of having Petyr working by her sides again - and fear of what will be expected of her.  
Could she go back to him? Let him touch her and use her body like before? Before when she had no hope, no desire but only her determination in protecting her belonging.  
Now she had discovered through shivers that desire could flutter in her belly like a trapped moth. She was reminded of some of her dormant wishes. Hope was an impossible thing to cultivate in Winter, but she was young and alive.  
She could no more live without hope than a candle flame without air. And that was a certainty no one could take from her. Not even the Dragon Queen and her ruthless children. The Night King would be dead at the spot if he tries to freeze that hope out of her. Petyr wouldn't live another day if he tries to taint her dreams again.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon was surrounded by a coterie of his commanders, studying charts of the north and, laying new plans.  
Now that the plan for their armament in Valyrian steel was set in motion, it was time to craft a battle strategy.  
He was torn between the need to march to the Wall with his men to confront the Night King and the logical prospect - which consisted of doing nothing at all - just waiting.  
According to the letter he had received from his friend, Eddison Tollet: the Night King and his army stood frozen ten feet away from the Wall and they never moved for two years.  
They stood there, unwavering, just waiting for something. They seemed dead and unthreatening like ice statues but their lifeless blue eyes kept staring at Castle Black, piercing into every soul hiding within.  
The numbers of that frozen army were limitless. From the top of the wall, it was reported that they could see a black stain soiling the white of the ground. It was long and covered the entirety of the space beyond the wall - darting in every direction like a fly of startled ravens in the sky.

 

"How far away are they?" Grey Worm asked.

"About ten miles, and right under The Wall." he replied.

"Cataphracts? Horse archers?" another soldier asked.

"Both, but fewer horse archers. They don't really need weapons. Their strength resides in their primal relentlessness." Jon grinned briefly. "I suppose they're about ninety thousand, no more. But hordes of undead men - An entirely horsed army, and they would do a fine job of cutting up the ground with this weather, our soldiers are going to be floundering through snow." He stopped, looked a question at Grey worm.

" At least, I presume we're planning to retreat?" asked the general of The Tyrell's legion.

" Then what? Go back to King's Landing and wait for those creatures to come and slaughter us after they had consumed half of the realm? " his voice was loud with authority.

"Anything else to report?" the Dornish commander asked.

Jon paused, scanned the group and sighed. These men were supposed to be trained for battles yet they could not stop complaining about the smallest hardship in their way.  
First, it was the weather on their way here, now it was their own cowardly fear.

"Only that they don't act like warriors sniffing battle. More like a force determined to stay on the defensive. Oh, they'll raid us, but unless the Night King is a better general than I think he is after watching him prance around looking important at the battlefield, we should be able to hold off whatever he throws at us if we have enough warning, fire and keep our distance."

"Warning we won't need. We march straight to them and when we can't do that, we march in a square." His translator explained the Dothraki general's words.

Everyone in the room pretended that they did not hear those fool words.  
Jon would never cease to wonder how Daenerys won so many battles with an army so dysfunctional. Maybe her victories only relied upon the wrath of her dragons?

" We need archers. With fire bearing arrows. Something that could slow their maddening march." he said at last.

The meeting calmed into a discussion on logistics -which of the five legions should go first, which last, how frequently the men on the outside of each formation should be rested by, being pulled in and replaced, how many men should attack first. A thousand and one decisions that had to be made before the first foot in this frozen battle.

After dismissing them, he went to read Daenerys's missile again. It was the second one that she'd sent to him. She wanted him back in the capital and she would not have it another way.  
He had written to her to explain the reason why he had to stay but her answer turned from sweet pleading to cold blood threats and power play.

He smiled a little and caressed the letter pensively.

Daenerys could not understand why Jon cared so much about an issue that she deemed alien to her throne and preoccupations.  
For someone who had marched into Meeren to free slaves from the whim of their masters, she had forgotten too soon why some issues had to be taken care of even though they were foreign to one.  
He suspected that it had something to do with him. Maybe she missed him and was afraid for his life? He highly doubted it, that seemed unlike her.  
They have ended their affair a long time ago. But he was not blind, he knew that Daenerys still felt the pull of love for him. However she was a woman with two kingdoms to rule, she did not let her heart control her head. She gave him space he desperately needed.  
Because in contrast to her, he had struggled with the reveal of his parentage more than she did.  
She was a Targaryen through and through, therefore, she only thought it a blessing to find a tie to her dead family in her lover.  
Jon found it disgusting. She was his aunt. The only family member he knew to be alive at that time. To have said family member be someone that he bedded did not sit well with his honour.  
No matter how much his death and Daenerys proximity had changed him, he was still a man of the North.  
He was a Northerner through and through. Northerners did not approve of incest. Not even between nieces and uncles or nephews and aunts, let alone brothers and sisters. First cousins were considered a risk.

Yet he had to admit that there were more Targaryen in him than he ever suspected because he found himself spirited away by another family member.  
And for said family member to be Sansa Stark of all people should put him down to shame.  
She was Catelyn Stark's daughter. She even looked so much like her now.  
She was the sister who barely talked to him before because he was a bastard.  
He had resisted for a week. Turning his heart against her, channelling his old and painful experiences in Winterfell when he was made to feel little by her mother. There were so little memories of Sansa in his mind.  
Arya was the only sister that he remembered with a frightening precision. Every laughter was written his mind and the many time they had played together, always close to his heart. Memories of Arya never ceased to visit his dreams even after all those years. He knew she was out there and he had to find her, protect her.

His initial plan was to take Winterfell for Daenerys and then take off to Braavos to search for his little sister. Now those thoughts had become trivial.  
He had found Sansa and Rickon and out of a sudden, it was enough for him. He could not leave two family members in danger to go quest for one.  
The irony of that choice was how he put the siblings he was the least close to over Arya.  
He did not like the thought but he had no other choice.  
What he had found in the North was disconcerting. While he was enthralled by glory and a new life with Daenerys, the North was dying down with each drop of snow and the only thing that kept it together was a fragile little woman.  
Speaking of that woman, he had missed her agonisingly. It had been only a few nights since their return but it seemed like forever.  
Sansa was always busy. She was either closeted in her study or giving audiences. The only time he saw a glimpse of her was last night when she had decided to stand outside at the guard's tower with the guardsmen - during a bloody snowstorm. Jon was so angry at her that he had walked there to get her to go back to the castle before she dies of hypothermia or catch a frostbite. Then she had given him that glare that had the power to soften his heart and harden his cock. She spoke of how those guards had to face the cold to protect Winterfell when she was the one whose role was to protect Winterfell. So she stood there all night with them. He was bloody enraged by her obstination but he ordered his dragon to stay close to the gates of Winterfell, and give some of its warmth to the castle.  
Which left him and his camp freezing since their only effective source of warmth against this weather was gone.

_Sansa! Sansa! Sansa!_

How could such thing happen to him? He was already in a terrible place with his obligations to Daenerys and King's Landing.  
Fate should have spared him this turn of events because it did not make sense to him. He only knew that he wanted her and he had to have her. He knew it from the moment their eyes had met on that fateful day.  
And he hated things he could not understand. They made him feel weak. Sansa made him feel weak- but in a good way.

Suddenly he felt a breath - on the back of his neck. He twisted around, craning his head to stare up at mesmerising blue eyes.  
His heart did some soubresauts as his hands flexed and caught the intruder. He had his arm around her neck and shoulders in a blink of an eye.  
Then he scented the familiar coppery smell of lilac mixed with rosewater and it was his undoing. He let go of her.

" Are. ..are you mad? Why did you hold me like that, you brute!" she snapped, coughing and struggling to steady her breath.

 

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" was all he managed to say before crushing her body against his.

She pushed him. " Let go!"

He did as he was told.

She took a few step back and they stared at each other in the dim light of candles.  
He had so many questions. What was she doing here? Did something happen to her or Rickon? Did she miss him? How come she was more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her?  
At last, he decided that none of that mattered to him.  
She was standing there so tall. She was magnificent, with creamy skin and an erect bearing that made him think of the marble statues decorating the new facades of the royal Castle in King's Landing. A wee beauty, her hair a long curtain of curls drenched with snow. It had begun drying into a deep red colour. He knew that it felt like silk and smelled like home.  
Her hands were shaking at her sides. Her attention was focused on something else because her eyes were upon his chest while he scanned her face and committed to memory every detail of such wonder.  
When she was done inspecting him, she retrieved a little note from the fluff of her dress and handed it to him.

Was it a gift? He liked gifts.

" What is it?" he mumbled with excitement before opening the little paper to read. He looked up at with a frown, a smile threatening to form on his lips.

" Sansa, why did you ride all the way here to personally give me a note that summons me to a private audience with you in the morrow?"

 

" Well, things can get lost in transportation. Ravens are not a safe thing these days, I thought I should deliver it myself," she explained matter-factly with a little frown.

He snorted, chuckled then shook his head when it turned into peals of laughter. Sansa was such a weird little woman.

" Or it could be that you missed me." he suggested.  
He took a step toward her as awareness of his desire tingled through his every nerve. He could see the red crawling up her skin from her neck to her cheeks.

He took another step heading directly for her but she moved to the side before he could grab her.

" Missing you? I did not experience such thing. I was preoccupied with the administration of the North."

" Liar!" he snapped. " I missed you, I was planning to come in Winterfell for... I don't know… maybe to steal you."

He drew nearer and she sidled back close to the bed. They began circling each other.

" To. Steal. Me" she snorted. " That would be so very Targaryen of you."

" Aye, I'm just trying to live up to my name." he mused, while he tried to think of the fastest way to get to her - and the wicked things he could do to her if she let him.

 

" Then go do it with other women."

" Why would I? I have The Maiden herself standing next to me."

" All right. You need to stop now ." At that point, her face was pomegranate red and the look in her eyes was aflame.

" Stop what? I'm not touching you..." he said innocently then he moved on her corner to grab her but she flew on the opposite side.

How could she move so fast with all those layers she was sporting?  
They played at that chasing game until he could not take it anymore. He grabbed the table between them and flipped it over - startling her. He halted her as she let out a shriek when he compressed her between his arms.  
"I won!" he grunted

" You cheated and caught me by surprise!" she snapped in between squeaks.

He hoisted her off her feet and carried her to the bed.  
He laid her gently on the mattress, then sat beside her and tugged off his boots and shirt. "Did you," he asked, as he unlaced her bodice and kissed the warm place between her breasts, "Did you miss me?"  
She nodded, unable to speak.

He began slowly undressing her with skimming kisses. When he bared her body, his lips were only inches away from one of her nipples. They hardened before his eyes.  
He flashed her a smile, happy to have that effect on her. "I missed fighting with you and sleeping next to you." He leant down and kissed one of those pebbled tissues.  
She shivered then she tugged at his hair until he hissed with hurt.

" What is it, Sansa? You don't want me?" His voice was throaty, contaminated with desire.

" We need to talk about Daenerys Targaryen."

* * *

 


End file.
